


A Long Time Coming

by ILOVESMESOMEGLEE



Category: Glee TV Show
Genre: 1984, Angst, Angst and Humor, Azimio - Freeform, Burt Hummel - Freeform, Burt is a teenage Jerk, Coming Out, Dave Karofsky - Freeform, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Secrets, Football, Friendship/Eventual Relationship, Gay Characters, Glee Season 2 AU, Homophobia, Hurt, Kurt Hummel - Freeform, Lost Love, M/M, Mercedes Jones - Freeform, OMC - Freeform, Past Drug Use, Paul karofsky - Freeform, Photgraphy, Reunion, Romance, Russian, Sadness, Secrets, Separation, bullying/former Bully, coming to terms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 18:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4886959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILOVESMESOMEGLEE/pseuds/ILOVESMESOMEGLEE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Karofsky's torn and secretive life soon spirals nearly out of control when his father reveals an incredible secret. David's own feelings for Kurt Hummel and his best friend, Azimio Adams, force him to face truths already too difficult for teenagers to bear. Rated T. I do not own Glee. Azimio and Mercedes play a huge role in this story. Completely AU. OC's. Please Review.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Guys. I decided to repost this story on here. :) I'm new to all this so please bear with me. :) 
> 
> I'm taking a mini break from posting new chapters to this story on Fanfiction but no worries I'll be back. :) In the meantime, I don't know when all 39 chapters will be posted on here but I'll try. 
> 
> A couple things to remember: Dalton never happened here. This is season 2 AU with some canon thrown in. Kurt never met Blaine. So he's not in this. Everything that happened in the locker room after the kiss never happened. Including, The death threats, prom and Dave's suicide attempt. But the kiss did happen. All will be explained later.  
> Dave is no longer bullying Kurt either. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Reviews are love. X3

A Long Time Coming  
Chapter 1  
"Yo, Azimio, wanna play "Resident Evil"? Or any game where I can kill you?" Dave calls out while he smirks mischievously at his long time best friend Azimio Adams, who in return says nothing but flips Dave the bird, which was Azimio's way of saying "Sure Dave". Azimio was weird that way. Azimio just came from the kitchen with soda and maybe about four or five different chips bags, clutched in his hands so the boys could have something to chow down on. Since neither knew how to cook for themselves they would have to settle for junk food and microwavable pizza. Dave was astounded at how Azimio managed to carry all that stuff and flip him off all at the same time.  
Dave was messing around and his best friend knew this. This was there thing- to give each other shit all the time.  
It was a good distraction, playing games with his best friend not focused on the shitty day Dave was having. It was currently Saturday afternoon; they were in Dave's basement with a TV and a couch where Dave was sitting. Which is pretty much is all that was down there except maybe piles of newspapers and different various other crap that needed to be thrown away.  
There was nothing to do but play video games. Dave was bored, plain and simple. Living in Lima was boring, plain and simple. At least to Dave, there was literally nothing to do in a town like Ohio. He invited his long time best friend since they were in diapers over just so he could try to itch away the boredom he was feeling. Dave's dad Paul Karofsky was at work so the boys had the house to themselves.  
"Dude, kill that fucking Zombie on the right!"  
Dave screams profanities at the TV screen totally consumed in "Resident Evil", not making any eye contact with his friend sitting beside him on Dave's small beige sofa, though it was clear he was talking Azimio- with them being the only ones in the room. His head is clearer as he jammed his fingers hard on the controller, jerking his body every which way. It was kind of difficult to move around on such a tiny couch with two hefty football players sitting on it making them look like giants. Dave made it work.  
"I am you fool! Wait get your shot gun and blast that motherfucker! Dave!"  
Azimio hollers back over the ear splitting volume of the TV, he struggles to kill the Zombie in the game they were playing. Azimio wasn't as good as Dave was when it came to Resident Evil or any other game they played together.  
That didn't matter; he liked playing with his friend because Dave never ever made fun of his best friend for sucking so bad. He wasn't that terrible, he just isn't great as Dave. Dave was the quote on quote the "Shit" when it came to any game they ever played together, according to Azimio. He hardly ever died on every single different game, and was good at figuring out puzzles also finding humanly impossibly difficult stuff hidden very well. It has been that way ever since they were kids. Dave was smart when it came to stuff like this. The two teenage boys loved all kinds of video games as long as it had blood and gore they were down for anything. There obsession though had always been and always will be "Resident Evil", they don't know exactly what is about it but they love it a lot. Dave being the "Master" at these game matches irked Azimio to no end because of his competitive side always wants to show Dave who is boss. Dave was aware of his friends jealously and is cocky enough to throw it in his face from time to time. It was all for fun though, Nothing serious ever went beyond it.  
"Dave, would you help a brotha' out? Man! Help me kill this bitch!"  
His screams go louder as he feels himself get more and more frustrated. Dave does nothing letting Azimio figure it out how to do it himself for once. He wasn't trying to be a dick but he was sort of done helping Z, whenever they played. Also his memory of his crappy day is slowly creeping back into his mind distracting him from the game mission at hand. He couldn't be bothered to pretend that everything was okay anymore when it clearly wasn't. He couldn't kid himself. Nothing was ever gonna be okay, no amount of video game playing or anything could distract what he had been trying to avoid. Azimio sees what Dave is doing and was about to go off about how Dave should have helped when Azimio pressed various buttons on the game controller than out of nowhere there it was… a few heart stopping seconds later the Zombie had been killed. Azimio couldn't believe his eyes; He'd finally done it. He had done what was nearly impossible for him to do over the years because he was usually dead by now, he would die early in the game. That wasn't the case this time. He is overwhelmed at this point, it may have been silly to everyone who didn't understand him, and he didn't give a shit. Azimio was proud of himself. He has a grin so big that it could brighten the saddest of soul's moods, except Dave of course. Azimio goes to high five Dave but his friend was in his own world. Not looking at Azimio but the TV. Not paying any mind to the paused video game but almost through the TV as if it were invisible, like it wasn't even there. He is having such a down right shitty day it's impossible to focus on anything else. When Dave offered to play the game he was really stoked but once he got into it, he couldn't focus; it was like he was going through the motions. Dave wants to go run up to his room, away from everything, away from his best friend that way no one not even Azimio could see tears that are threatening to pour out. He doesn't do that, he can't do that to his friend but he can't talk or let his friend know something is wrong. He has no idea what to do. He stays on his couch gripping the couch's arm tightly fighting back the lump in his throat. He's so frustrated and furious at why he won't allow himself to share why he's behaving this way he has the urge to scream his head off. Dave is so convinced that once he shares that he just wants to cry and cry Z would think he was a pussy. They were so supposed to be "Manly" and "Manly" men don't cry or let it show that they are weak.  
He can't let anyone in, not now or ever. It's too hard.

"Dave, playa how did you kill all those zombies so easily man?!"

Azimio looks up at the paused game still glowing from his win. He didn't notice that Dave was disconnected, barely paying mind to anything around him.  
"Dave?" Azimio looks over to his buddy suddenly concerned at how quiet Dave was being. Still nothing, no noise just the sound of Dave's breathing which sounded labored and wheezy.  
"Dave, talk to me bro. I know something is wrong. Come on man, you're starting to scare me. What's the matter? Is it your dad?" Azimio asks more attentively turning his attention toward Dave who still isn't even aware Azimio is talking to him. "Dude whatever you got going on man, I'm here for you.  
You know that." Azimio speaks the truth and from the heart. He would always be there for Dave no matter what. He wished his friend could get it through his thick skull that he wasn't going anywhere.  
"I'm fine, drop it Z." Dave snaps his voice above a whisper which clearly shows that he wasn't even convinced of his own lie.  
"Bullshit! You clearly ain't okay and I wanna know what the fuck? You were fine a minute ago and everything was all chill but then you got real quiet now something is up. Tell me." Azimio searches anything to let him know what he wanted to know but Dave's face was unreadable. Which meant one thing and that was that Dave's guard was up.  
And once his guard is up there is no one way of getting through to him. Azimio knew him for a long time, he knew these things. He knew his friend inside out or at least he thought he did. But these past few weeks not just today Azimio grew aware of Dave's odd behavior. Hell Dave doesn't even slushy or bother the Glee kids anymore. He hasn't for weeks, especially not Kurt Hummel who Dave used to love going after. He doesn't even do that anymore. He clearly didn't know Dave as well as he once thought. "I'm telling you Z, I am all right please drop it okay"  
Dave warns Azimio again gripping the couch tighter not wanting to fight his friend so grips it so he won't lose control. He'd never hurt his best friend it was just the way he was feeling. "I bet if I were Kurt you'd tell me then am I right?"  
Azimio having had enough of the crap going on in front of him shoots back angrily. He found it weird that not only has Dave stop harassing Hummel but they started to be cool with each other for a few weeks now. Azimio wanted to leave it alone and not question until Dave was ready to tell him why the change of heart to longer make Hummel's life hell. Azimio thought it was a joke when Dave told him he no longer thought it was good idea to fuck with Kurt or his glee club. When he found out Dave wasn't joking he decided to drop it. He didn't want to question his friend or his motive.  
Now was a different story, He was angry-No make that furious and okay fine a little jealous of how he would close himself off to Azimio but not Kurt Hummel. They weren't close as he and Dave were supposed to be. Hummel wasn't in there circle of popular kids, He was a glee kid nerd. A loser, a part of a loser choir club. They danced around like gay monkeys and were very uncool. Kurt didn't have the social status that was reserved for Cheerios and popular jocks such as Dave and Azimio. So Azimio didn't really understand why Dave was suddenly drawn to Kurt. What was it that those two were keeping from him?  
"Know what fuck you Z!" Dave is up on his feet in a flash-make that in a rage as he tosses his controller hard on the hardwood floor. Surprisingly it didn't break despite the loud noise it made.  
"Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?" Azimio is on his feet as he backs away from a red faced Dave. Dave is boiling with fear, frustration, anger and sadness. He can't control how mad he is getting himself. Why did Azimio have to bring up Kurt's name? He can't deal with this right now. He has to do something so he won't think about Hummel.  
"Get out!" Dave yells louder than he is meaning to be. He can't even recognize his own voice with how deep and booming it is.  
"What? Dave-I'm sorry can we talk-" Az quickly tries to take control of the situation but is losing the battle so fast he's surprised his head isn't spinning.  
"Get the fuck out now! Don't ever say that name or talk about him to me again! Get out Z or I will throw you out myself!" Dave screams until he can't anymore. He's so tired; he can't deal with his emotions. It is all taking its toll on him.  
Azimio wasn't gonna get through his friend today so he decides to leave his friend be. No matter how painful it was to leave his friend like that. He didn't want to start another argument so he listens to Dave and quietly leaves upstairs. But believe him this thing with Dave was far from over and Azimio was gonna get to the root of why Dave's behavior has changed in a matter of weeks or why he has been acting weird no matter what he has to do fish it out of him. A few seconds later when Azimio leaves and Dave hears the upstairs front door shut, indicating that his friend had left. Dave lets it go, all the anger that has been building up not just today but for years. He puts his face on his couch cushion and sobs helplessly into it. With no one being around to see him this way he doesn't care he lets it out. This continues on for a few moments until Dave's shoulders stop shaking and he collects himself.  
"I'm sorry Z, you can't know. No one can ever know" Dave hiccups as he looks around the empty basement talking to no one wishing he could say this directly to his friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys, :) 
> 
> I gotta say going back and rereading this is fun! ;) I fixed some mistakes I noticed. 
> 
> Thanks for the support. :) 
> 
> We are back in but this time with Kurt and Mercedes.... And someone else in the lunch room. I wont spoil for those who haven't read this. 
> 
> Thank you for the 2 Kudos.  
> :) 
> 
> Comments are welcomed. If you have any questions feel free to ask. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

"Who are you texting? It's the middle of the afternoon and this our time to catch up. " Mercedes Jones eyes her best friend Kurt Hummel from Glee club suspiciously. As Kurt was firing off another text, ignoring his friend's stares.

"Oh Cede's if you are looking for your business none of it is over here." Kurt playfully smiles then he grabs a French fry and tosses it to Mercedes who couldn't but smile at Kurt's silliness.

It is Monday afternoon and the two best pals are currently gabbing away in the cafeteria in their usual spot with the rest of the Glee Club and alongside that table a few inches away is the Jock table.

Where all the popular meat-heads are throwing different spitballs and trash toward Kurt's and Mercedes's table like they did every day.

The Glee Club ignores the rowdy football players as best they could. They were used to this type of treatment at the hands of them and everyone else who thought they were losers.

Mercedes gawks evilly at one of the jocks.

Who had a wad of wet paper seemingly about to throw it her way, into her hair.

He thinks twice about what he was about to do. As he notices her giving him a look like: "I dare you, if one part of that shit gets in my weave….I will cut you".

He then has a horrified look in return to her expression and settles the wet spilled paper down glancing away from her.

"Yeah that's I thought." Mercedes whispers knowing one glance of "The Look of Death" could scare even the biggest of assholes.

"I don't know what to do, He knows something is wrong"-D

"I can't do this anymore; shit Kurt I am freaking out! He can't know!-D

"I mean he's my best friend…..Shit. Kurt we need to talk can we meet somewhere?"-D K

Kurt frowns and sighs as he looks back at his phone and sees the panic stricken messages that were sent moments earlier by Dave Karofsky.

No one knew this but Dave and Kurt were sort of like secret friends. With the type of history they have Kurt has thought of if he has truly gone mad to agree to be secret friends with his once former tormentor.

The guy made his life hell for years, and shouldn't have been given a second chance. At least that is what Kurt knows everyone will think if they ever found out He was friends with Karofsky.

But Kurt knew his secret and knew the type agony he was going through being in the closet so after weeks of Dave trying to prove he wants to change by no longer torturing Kurt's friends he reluctantly gave Dave a chance.

Kurt didn't like the idea of being secret friends but he knew what Dave had to lose if he were to come out with them being friends or to come out period. He wants to be there for Dave.

He grew a soft spot for him. He didn't know when it happened but it had.

Maybe it was when Dave apologized to Kurt one day when they in the empty school hallways?

He looked so lost and helpless that Kurt couldn't help but feel for him. Either way he's finding out that maybe there might hope for his new found secret friend yet.

Don't get him wrong they still have a lot issues to get through but Kurt promised to give Dave a shoulder to lean on when he needs it. Kurt never breaks his promises.

So here now Kurt is reading over the dozens of texts that Dave has sent about his best friend Azimio Adams and the argument they had over the weekend.

Dave told Kurt everything even about the breakdown he later had after Azimio left. Kurt detested Azimio all of the time and he had no problem showing that he did but it seemed to Kurt at least the way Dave explained it was that Azimio was actually trying to be good friend to Dave.

Kurt doesn't know how he feels about this because he doesn't think that Azimio was capable of having one good gene in his body.

He decides to send one last text confirming they should meet after school of course after Glee club and football practice that way they could talk face to face. The frown is still plastered on his face as he types the message. All of this was exhausting but Kurt knew that being Dave's friend was going to be challenging, he gladly faced it on.

Mercedes watches her friend with caution when she sees him frown sadly at whatever texts he has been receiving all lunch period. She was bothered and really annoyed that Kurt wasn't paying mind to anything the Diva had to say.

Usually he was so enthralled and into their conversations that he would be giddy with excitement chatting with his best gal pal, not today.

Today was different; something was off about the way Kurt was behaving. He seemed to be answering all her questions on auto pilot. He was there physically but his mind was on his cell phone. Even that momentary smile on Kurt's face when he threw the French fry at her, he wasn't really there.

The diva knew when Kurt was hiding something they'd been friends way too long for her not to. She needs to know who had the audacity to take her Boo's attention away from her and she was gonna find out whether she has to pry her way into his conversation, then so be it.

"Kurt, what's wrong? Why are you frowning? Is it your dad?" Mercedes asks softly but still alarmed on the inside but careful not show it on her face.

It was just in case she if she predicted was true. Kurt doesn't need her freaking out if something bad were to happen to his dad again.

She gently places her hand on top Kurt's soft hand rubbing in circular motions.

Mercedes was worried his dad might be sick again since he had his heart attack a while back.

She saw Kurt at his worst when it happened and would never want for him to go through that again.

No one should have to watch the one they love suffer something so horrific.

Kurt smile warms as his eyes dart to her hand on top of his. He really did have the most beautiful best friend in the world and really appreciated her concern. It also made him feel guilty that he is keeping something from her.

But it wasn't his secret to spill. He couldn't just blab what was really going on. He doesn't believe in outing even if she was his best friend. If he were to say something he knows deep down Mercedes can keep a secret but given her past involving Dave she really didn't care for him.

So Kurt wasn't comfortable enough to let her in just yet, maybe in time, but not now. Dave trusts him and Kurt isn't certain because he really isn't sure about their friendship but Dave seems to trust him more than Azimio. He understands why because Azimio doesn't seem like the understanding accepting type at least that is how Kurt feels due to all the bullying he faced with Dave's best friend.

He wants to share this with her so bad he can taste it. He can't do it though, he just can't. He has to bite back his emotions and thinking about Dave's hurt wounded face if Kurt were to betray him is enough for him not to spill the beans.

"No it isn't that Mercedes, my dad is fine. Thanks for asking but he's okay. Has been for a while." Kurt breathes out again hoping she stops with her questions.

She doesn't in fact she asks even more questions.

"Then if it's not your father, is it a guy? Do you have a boyfriend I don't know about?" Mercedes asks teasingly poking her plastic fork she had in her hand playfully at Kurt's side, Kurt laughs at this playfulness. Soon after this friendly display Mercedes and Kurt both stop there conversation mid-way to look up for a second distracted by another wad of spit soaked napkins flying across the other side of the room, nearly hitting Tina Cohen Chang in the face.

She was eating her salad not aware of it until it was too late. She shrieks in shock ducking for cover but that wasn't necessary because it doesn't stick to Tina.

Instead it lands on the floor along with the rest of its buddies that were launched earlier that hour.

The floor is full of waded up paper; there must've been at least twenty or thirty pieces of trash and other various things on the floor. No one envies the person who has to clean up this mess.

One of the Football jocks- A kid with blonde hair Kurt doesn't really know his name curses at his failed attempt to be cruelly funny.

"Fuck I missed." Kurt could hear the kid with short blonde hair that was swept to the side, with blue eyes hiss under his breath as another football player laughs at his friend. Kurt purses his lips in disgusts at their behavior.

He and Mercedes share the same look of repulsion at the "Neanderthals" as Kurt likes to describe everyone on the football team except the guys in Glee Club and Dave.

"You okay Tina?" Kurt being the good friend that he likes to consider himself asks calling out to Tina while glaring hard at the idiot who threw the paper.

The idiot in question didn't see the glare because he interested himself in his circle going back to his moronic friends. Tina says nothing obviously embarrassed from the way her cheeks are turning a bright shade of red, nods her head saying she really was okay.

Mercedes and Kurt return to their conversation as if nothing had happened moments earlier. Kurt suddenly feels sick because he knows what's coming. Not even Tina's momentary scene could get him out of this. He knows he has to look in his best friends eyes and boldly lie to her face or at least withhold some information about Dave and his situation regarding his secret friendship.

In order to protect the guy he is starting to care for maybe a little. Kurt's finds this whole thing just lovely and he's being sarcastic as he thinks this that Mercedes thinks it's a boyfriend that he's hiding.

Kurt so wanted that to be the case, which would be way easier than the truth. She'd freak if she knew the truth. Tell him he was crazy for helping out a guy who made his life hell. Kurt didn't need her to remind him of everything Dave put him through. Kurt is trying to be the bigger man and move past everything that has happened in the past and help out someone who is terrified of losing everything if this secret were to come out. Kurt shares with Mercedes what he could careful not to give everything away.

"I don't have a boyfriend, believe me if I did you'd be the first person I'd tell." Kurt simply states, smiles at the girl next to him.

Mercedes beams at his statement. He really did have a good friend.

The knot in his stomach became tighter.

All of this secrecy was really wearing him out but it was for Dave.

He had to keep remind himself of why he was doing this.

"Okay I believe you, you don't have a boyfriend. Than what has my friend so down on himself staring at his phone like his puppy got ran over?" Mercedes asks with a truly concerned expression in her eyes as she waits for Kurt to continue.

She really did believe Kurt, why would he lie to her? Kurt wasn't like a liar. In their whole entire friendship he never once lied to her.

He wouldn't start now or ever.

She decides to let him to tell her his news when he is ready.

"Fine, I'll share with you what I can but first things first; can I ask my best friend in the whole world about how her test went before I get into what is going on with me?" Kurt says as he leans in waiting for Mercedes to continue.

As Kurt was listening to Mercedes go on about what went on in her life regarding her test his mind couldn't help but go back to Dave and he was about to say about this whole ordeal.

"Okay Boo, now that I shared with you my day are you ready to share with me? I am here if you need advice." Mercedes flashes a small smile when she was done discussing her day that made Kurt feel even guiltier.

The moment of truth or rather some truth was about to be revealed and Kurt had no clue what he wanted to say until the words just came tumbling out with surprising ease. He could do this.

"First things first, pinky promise me you will not share this with a single soul? I mean it Mercedes, this can't leave here. No one can know what I am about to tell you for now." Kurt makes Mercedes pinky swear which meant if Kurt made Mercedes pinky swear whatever he was keeping from her had to be big. She nods her head confirming he can go on and lets him continue without saying another word.

They pinky promise and Kurt begins to speak. As Kurt was going to reveal something to his friend behind them sat at the jocks table a very still nonchalant Azimio Adams waiting for Kurt to say something.

Normally he wouldn't give two shits as to what is going with the Glee "Losers" but he has been eaves dropping unknowingly to the Glee Club best friends this entire time during Kurt's and Mercedes conversation.

He needed to know why Dave and Kurt were suddenly being buddies with each other out of nowhere.

He wanted to get down as to why Dave was so touchy about that Glee kid loser Hummel and why was he off limits to the torture that he was supposed to be getting along with the rest of his friends.

Azimio would never admit this out loud but he had a hint of jealously with Dave and the loser, it made him mad because these two guys who couldn't have anything in common and couldn't be any more different from each other were randomly connected at the hip in recent days.

So if Azimio was gonna get the answers he was looking for he needed to pay attention to see what information he could get and what to go on to take it from there. Azimio stopped eating for a minute to pay attention to this conversation.

Mercedes and Kurt didn't see Azimio sitting there with their backs turned away from the football player but he could hear everything they were trying to whisper about crystal clear.

Despite the loud ruckus going on in the cafeteria, Azimio had super hearing and could sense whatever was going on would be worth listening in on.

"Okay, Yes I was texting a guy-And no it wasn't a boyfriend or anything like that at all. As I said I am still single." Kurt quickly adds as Mercedes opens her mouth no doubt to say she knew it was a guy.

Kurt knew her so well, he knows the things she would say a moment before she has a chance to speak.

"Can you tell me who it is? I promise I won't say anything to anyone." Mercedes pleads but Kurt doesn't give in.

He can't-do that to Dave, he won't. "I am sorry Mercedes but out of respect for what I am about to tell you next I respectfully ask that you not question me about his name. I can't tell you- yet." Kurt says and he really wants to tell her but again refrains from doing so.

"I understand, Kurt that is fine. So is everything alright with this mystery guy?" Mercedes asks truly worried about someone she has never met, well at least as far as she is aware.

She has met Dave and to Kurt's dismay she doesn't like Dave. Meanwhile Azimio gets frustrated as he waits for Hummel to again reveal whatever was bothering him. He didn't think waiting for gossip would ever make him this crazy because he is not the gossiping type but here he is on the edge of his seat wanting to know everything, right then and there now.

"No, Mercedes he's far from alright, I am actually really worried about him. He's really upset of what happened over the weekend." Azimio ears perk up at the mention of the word "weekend".

He doesn't know why that word grabbed his attention but it did, he again waits as patiently as he could for more news.

Kurt takes a deep breath as Mercedes speaks attempting to calm Kurt down as she sees him shaking a little. She felt awful at the sight of her best friend.

"What is it? What happened?" Mercedes asks really worried now. She didn't know what exactly was going but whatever it was it wasn't good and it has got her "Boo" so depressed.

"Oh sweetie I am sure whatever it is, he's gonna be okay. I mean if he's got you helping him he'll bounce back at whatever's bothering him." Mercedes smiled gaining Kurt's attention.

He wasn't aware that he was staring at the table, head down until he looked into her trusting eyes. Kurt knew at the very second he could tell her things but not mention Dave or anything else too bad.

Mercedes had his back. Kurt could hug her for that but he needed to focus and let out what he could. He had to; he can't keep all of this in.

As much as he suddenly cares for Dave, Kurt's afraid if he kept everything in, he could break at any moment.

Kurt speaks knowing exactly now what he was going to say and how he was going to go about it.

"Alright Mercedes I am ready to tell you but this doesn't leave the table, remember?" Kurt says determinedly while Mercedes points to her pinky and reminds Kurt that she pinky swore she wasn't gonna say anything and she meant it.

"Kurt, I swore didn't I?" Mercedes rolls her eyes but smiles as she waits for Kurt to continue.

Kurt fixes himself in his seat. He's very feeling antsy.

He is ready to let this out, well some of it. "Here it goes… This guy that has been texting me has been having trouble with himself and at home for a while and to top that off he had a fight with his best friend….. He's scared Mercedes…Um" Kurt stops for a second. Kurt is getting very nervous he just wants to let this out already but Kurt is having trouble, thank whoever was on Kurt's side that Mercedes began talking interrupting him so he doesn't have to speak for now.

"Fight with his best friend?" Azimio mouths the words to himself confused at first but then something clicks and it's starting to make some sense as to what Kurt is talking about.

He listens in further.

He thinks back and he's starting to put things together. He needs more to go on before he could question or accuse anyone of anything else. Again he waits and listens.

"What's he scared of Kurt? Is he getting abused at home? Is his friend harming him in any way? Because if that is the case we have to-" Mercedes is horrified as she assumes Dave or rather "Mystery Person" is getting abused, she feels sick to her very core that people could do that to their own children.

She's pissed but she keeps her emotions in check as Kurt interrupts her.

"No, Honey it's not abuse… This guy… I am just gonna say it…He's gay, Mercedes and he's not out yet, he can't come out because he'll lose everything if he does. I'm sorry to keep this from you but he needs someone to support him, he has no one. He's afraid to come out to his friend or his family for fear of rejection. I've been helping him for a few weeks now. He needs someone on his side if he ever wants to come out and he trusts me. I know with my help he'll be a better person someday." Kurt feels a ton of weight begin to get off his shoulders while at the same time he feels sicker than before and he doesn't understand how that is. He should feel relieved that finally someone else knows a little bit of the truth but all he feels is guilty that he can't say Dave's name.

"Oh…..um…..my….. Wow Kurt I wasn't expecting that… Does he go to our school?" Mercedes asks eyes bulged trying not to seem too shocked. She had pictured something more terrifying than this guy being gay.

She suddenly feels sympathetic to this guy's situation. She can't ever imagine keeping a secret like this. Azimio is frozen, whoever Kurt was talking about he wasn't expecting him to say that. He was just as shocked as Mercedes.

"No…. he doesn't, he goes to another school." Kurt lies through his teeth. He's answering fast, avoiding Mercedes suspicious stares as best as he could.

"Anyway that is why he was texting me. It's because he's tired of hiding. He wanted to tell his friend the truth about himself and he says he came close to but he, and this is his quote "Chickened out" at the last minute. He says his friend kept pestering him to tell him what was wrong and when Kar- I mean when the guy I am helping wouldn't tell his friend anything they had a huge fight while playing some game I can't remember. So that is basically it. He just needed to vent to someone. It's bad Mercedes I just hope he can get through this?" Kurt accidentally slips up correcting himself quickly.

He didn't mean to almost say Karofsky, his mind and heart are racing so fast that he could barely control himself. He was lucky that Mercedes didn't seem to catch his little mistake. Even if she had she certainly didn't show it.

Mercedes continues to listen but not say anything this time. It takes Azimio several moments to register what Kurt was saying. He unlike Mercedes caught onto Hummel's almost outburst.

When he put all the pieces of the puzzle together and what he came up with had him in total shock and disbelief.

Along with so many other emotions he can't even register. His worst fear was true. Someone close to him has been lying to his face for years. Azimio felt betrayed. How could this person lie to him like that? Azimio was pissed. He couldn't listen to anymore. Azimio didn't want to listen to it.

He quickly gets up in a furious rage causing his seat to squeak really loud. He storms out of the lunchroom.

The loud noise also causes Mercedes and Kurt's eyes to go him. Both are confused at this behavior. Azimio didn't see Kurt's face because he didn't want to see it.

He was disgusted at his discovery and at the person responsible.

The only thing that Azimio knew was Dave is apparently gay. Hummel knew about this the entire time.

Maybe even before Dave decided to leave Hummel alone. Which meant one thing, Hummel turned Dave gay.

That had to have been it? Dave wasn't gay as far Azimio knew before Dave met Hummel.

Questions were: How long had they been keeping this from him? When did Hummel find out?

This is all Hummel's fault.

Azimio was really angry as he leaves the school's lunchroom with that thought in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. :) Chapter 3 should be up soon. :) Next up Paul Karofsky.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys,
> 
> We are FINALLY back with Dave, Kurt and Paul Karofsky. "Someday We'll Be Together" By Diana Ross & The Supremes inspired this whole fic. 
> 
> Bold Italics are Kurt singing. 
> 
> Let me know what if you have questions. 
> 
> Thank you for you reading.

Chapter 3

 

Football bag over his shoulder, Dave strode with a false air of confidence towards the choir room to meet Kurt. He was grateful for Kurt to meet him so quickly. Those pesky texts Dave rapidly sent could've easily gotten on Kurt's nerves. But they didn't. Instead, Kurt recognized how scared Dave really was and felt that it was important to help a fellow gay guy.

 

But as Dave approached the choir room, a soft voice could be heard, accompanied by a piano. Rounding the corner and stopping just a foot away from the door, Dave came to a complete stop. Inside, Kurt was at the piano, softly singing "Zombie" by The Cranberries. Kurt's voice could've reached Heaven in Dave's opinion. The soft arc of the melody and aching loneliness reached Dave's heart, freezing him in his spot. He simply enjoyed the mezzo-soprano's voice, singing away. Kurt's voice was marvelous.

 

**Kurt:**

**Another head hangs lowly,**

**Child is slowly taken.**

**And the violence caused such silence.**

**Who are we mistaken?**

 

Kurt sings this choice of song because he thinks this how Dave feels about everything going on in his life right now. This song in Kurt's mind fits his friend in so many ways. Not the whole song but some of the lyrics are perfect for Dave Karofsky. This is one Kurt's favorite songs by a band he just discovered not too long ago. It's so beautiful and raw; he can't help but love this song.

 

**But you see, it's not me, it's not my family.**

**In your head, in your head they are fighting,**

**with their tanks and their bombs,**

**and their bombs and their guns.**

**In your head, in your head, they are crying…**

 

**In your head,**

 

**In your head,**

 

**Zombie, zombie, zombie,**

 

**Hey, hey, hey.**

 

**What's in your head,**

**in your head,**

**Zombie, zombie, zombie?**

**Hey, hey, hey, hey, oh, Dou, Dou, Dou, Dou, Dou...**

 

Dave goes closer to the door, slightly leaning on the frame. Kurt's angelic voice smashes his brain. The lyrics and Kurt's voice are so poignant that Dave can't move. Oh, the ache in the right guard's heart in that moment! Nothing could've taken his focus away from Kurt Hummel. The stinging song continued...

 

**Another mother's breakin'**

**Heart is taking over**

**when the violence causes silence,**

**we must be mistaken.**

 

**It's the same old theme since nineteen-sixteen.**

**In your head, in your head they're still fighting,**

**with their tanks and their bombs,**

**and their bombs and their guns.**

**In your head, in your head, they are dying...**

 

The next part of this song brought out so many questions as to what is going inside Dave's mind. Kurt sang with passion imaging Dave sitting across from him. Kurt stared ahead wanting to say these words to the very guy that trusts him with everything that Kurt had. Kurt is unaware that Dave is just a few feet away outside listening in.

 

**In your head**

 

**In your head**

**Zombie, zombie, zombie,**

**Hey, hey, hey.**

 

**What's in your head,**

**in your head,**

**Zombie, zombie, zombie?**

**Hey, hey, hey, hey, oh, oh, oh,**

**Oh, oh, oh, oh, hey, oh, ya, ya-a...**

 

The song ended, piano notes slowly ebbing away. Dave still couldn't move, mesmerized by the lyrics, the song choice, Kurt's voice, Kurt's tender piano playing, Kurt's command of the song...Kurt.

Kurt didn't move. Eyes closed, fingers still hovering over keys, he internalized the passionate song to the core of his heart.

 

But the moment turned into tension when Dave realized he had tears in his eyes, threatening to fall. He didn't understand. He wasn't sad. No. David Karofsky, proud right guard and reformed bully, was MOVED by the song, Moved by Kurt Hummel.

 

Dave shook his head. He had a job to do.

 

Dave could barely focus. Lyrics bouncing around in his head sung beautifully became a jumbled mess of angst and passion. Very slowly, Dave pushed off the door's frame and stood erect. Kurt, still meditating after the song came to an end, finally raised his head. His eyes were glazed over, hypnotized.

 

Finally, reality asserted itself. Just as Dave was about to say something, Kurt jumped a little at seeing Dave standing in the doorway.

 

"Dave! I didn't know you'd come in."

 

Kurt shakily said, wiping his face. Kurt wasn't crying, but Dave wondered if he was crying before he arrived.

 

"Kurt, that was beautiful….."

 

Dave softly declared. Dave wasn't even bothering to try to hide that he watched Kurt's moving performance. Dave steps slowly inside the choir room stopping by the door hypnotized by the performance, he wasn't aware his feet were moving. He couldn't hide; he always knew Kurt was a wonderful singer but that performance….. It touched something deep within him. He didn't understand why he was so drawn but it didn't matter because this is Kurt Hummel. His voice could do no wrong.

 

Kurt, hand over his own heart, was so touched by Dave's words the he couldn't help but allow one single tear to fall from his eyes. Embarrassed, Kurt quickly swipes the tear with his quick, angry hands.

 

He wondered how long Dave had been standing there. Kurt studied Dave over and by the football player's trance like state Kurt knew that Dave had seen enough or maybe the whole performance. Who knew?

 

Kurt didn't ask. He was too embarrassed to ask. He didn't have to. All Kurt knew was that he could turn into ten different shades of red right now.

 

Dave wasn't supposed to see this. No one was, Especially Dave. Kurt loves performing in front of a crowed, but this was considered private for Kurt. No one knows that Kurt and Dave are now friends. Good friends.

 

Dave wasn't imagining it like he thought before-Kurt had definitely been crying. He felt bad and wanted nothing more than to wipe that tear- all tears from this young boy's eyes.

 

"Thank you"

 

Kurt bashfully says as he tries to collect himself turning his attention away from Dave heading toward the row of chairs that were perfectly placed for them to sit. Dave hesitates for a moment before he slowly follows Kurt to the row of chairs. He smiles behind Kurt so Kurt couldn't see how that 'thank you' made him truly feel.

 

The late afternoon sun was the only light in the slightly darkened choir room. Three chair rows adorned the right side of the room and Kurt and Dave were seated in the first row, side-by-side. Nobody was saying anything. Kurt was sitting patiently while Dave twirled his football gear bag in his hand. Pensive thoughts stayed in their minds while words were trying to be found, in their minds.

Kurt chanced a sideways glance at Dave. He didn't like what he saw. Dave looked lost in thought, a frown enveloping his round, full face. Kurt looked back down, still waiting patiently. Finally, Dave spoke.

"He knows…."

 

Dave said quietly. Kurt turned in his chair to study Dave. Dave's freshly showered face simply looked pale and his damp hair hung heavily.

"Who?"

 

Kurt asked, concerned.

"Who do you think?"

 

Dave asked, a little perturbed.

"I'm sorry, Dave. I don't know."

 

Kurt replied gently.

Dave sighed. He didn't want to say the name out loud, but he knew Kurt was either confused or coaxing Dave to talk. Regardless, Dave was annoyed.

"Az!" Dave exclaimed. "Az knows that I'm….."

Kurt took another moment to study Dave. Suddenly, he came to a conclusion.

"Dave."

 

Kurt said with authority. Dave turned his head and looked at Kurt.

 

"Have you even said it to yourself?"

Dave looked at him, confused momentarily. Then, he knew where Kurt was going with this.

"No. Why would I?"

"You'd be surprised how that can help. It…..verifies who you are. It's important, Dave. Trust me."

Kurt twitched his hand, like he wanted to reach over and hold Dave's hand. But he held back. He wasn't sure how to talk to Dave and didn't want to impose of Dave's comfort level. Although they were in a relatively private location, there was a possibility they weren't alone.

"I…." Then, Dave stopped talking. He knew what he wanted to say, what he should say. Kurt egged him on.

"I…."

"Go on, Dave."

 

Kurt urged, quietly.

Dave looked down at his hands for a moment, so lost in thought.

"Can we change the subject?"

 

Dave desperately asked.

Suddenly, Kurt shot up out of his chair and marched right up to Dave.

"You say it David Karofsky or so help me God I'll…."

 

Dave looked up at him defiantly.

"You'll what, Kurt? Stop talking to me?"

Kurt retreated back to his chair and sat down, never taking his eyes off Dave.

"That's not fair, Dave."

"Well, it's not fair to force me to say that I'm gay before I'm ready!" Dave fired back.

A moment passed at they looked angrily at each other. Suddenly, it dawned on them at the same time. Dave had admitted it. Both boys' eyes shot up in surprise and elation. Even from Dave!

Dave smiled. Kurt smiled. Soon, smiles broadened followed by giggles. Uncontrollable laughter filled the air as both boys struggled to not fall on the floor. Waves of relaxation flowed towards Dave and Kurt continued to laugh and laugh.

Dave stopped laughing and watched Kurt.

 

Kurt had his hand on the floor to prevent his enormous bursts of laughter from forcing him to the floor. Dave found he loved being able to make somebody laugh – especially Kurt. Dave watched Kurt. Gradually, Kurt's laughs came under control and soon, the two boys were just looking at each other, little smiles adorning their faces.

 

"Dave Karofsky,"

 

Kurt began, a little grin still on his face,

 

"I knew you could do it."

Dave just smiled.

But soon, Dave's smile faded. Kurt's did too. They had something important to talk about and Kurt knew it wasn't only the nerve-wracking texts.

 

"Kurt," Dave gently began, "I'm scared."

 

Kurt knew this feeling all too well. Lately, his fear had come at the hands of school bullies, but he remembered what it was like to be closeted. He hated it. He couldn't live. Knowing Dave is clearly not ready to come out, he quickly thought of what he should say.

"Why?" Kurt gently began. "The texts?"

 

Dave sighed before he quietly answered, "Yes."

Kurt reached for his cell phone, reading the anxious texts from Dave again. When he finished the third text, he put his phone in his bag and resolutely turned towards Dave.

"You have nothing to worry about."

Dave's head shot up at Kurt, in absolute disbelief.

"I'm serious, Dave!"

 

Kurt said, complete with his hand over his heart.

 

"Azimio knows something is seriously wrong, but doesn't know you're gay."

Dave shook his head.

"Kurt, you don't know him. You don't know him."

Kurt was slightly annoyed.

 

"OK, enlighten me."

Dave looked at Kurt. He'd never been able to trust anyone with this part of his life until now. He couldn't help but quickly admire Kurt – his meticulous hair, his outrageous fashion sense, his prissy manners and posture. Dave quickly hid a smirk before coming back to reality.

"I just know him, Kurt." Dave began with a heavy sigh.

 

"He knows. I just know it."

Kurt shifted a little in his seat. He knew he was going to be there a while.

"Dave, this is your anxiety talking."

Dave's eyes narrowed a little, mulling over Kurt's simple statement.

"Dave," Kurt gently began, "Yes, you're scared. And you're scared of anybody else finding out about you. But, in anything I've heard from what happened last Saturday in your basement, Azimio knows nothing."

 

Dave was silent. He hadn't considered his fears overtaking his rationality. He urged Kurt to continue.

"That's it, Dave."

 

Kurt said, sitting back confidently.

 

"He knows something's wrong. That's it."

"That's it, huh?"

 

Dave replied, looking away, thinking Kurt's words over.

"That's it."

 

Kurt confirmed, with a cocky smile.

Dave snorted.

 

"I hope so."

Kurt was annoyed again. "Dave, he's supposed to be your best friend. Would it be so terrible if he fou-"

"Yes!" Dave exclaimed. "It would be a…..disaster."

 

Kurt just watched Dave. Kurt rotated his hands until they became fists. He didn't know he'd be frustrated with Dave, but completely understood Dave's fears. If it hadn't been for an understanding best friend like Mercedes Jones, Kurt would've struggled coming out. He knew that. But Dave's best friend would turn his back. At a time when Dave needed him, too. Kurt snorted in disgust.

That got Dave's attention. And, unfortunately, Dave misunderstood it.

"I'm sorry, Kurt."

 

Dave whispered.

 

"I don't want to disappoint you."

"Dave, you're not."

 

And this time, Kurt chose to finally close the gap between them and placed his hand on top of Dave's. Dave looked down at Kurt's hand, simply sitting on top of Dave's. He looked up at Kurt, a kind of pride in his eyes, but he wasn't smiling.

"You haven't disappointed me, Dave. If you're right about how Azimio will react, I'm disappointed in him."

Kurt smiled, reassuringly. Dave couldn't have been more grateful.

"It's not…"

 

Dave began, "It's not that I'm never going to come out." He looked up at Kurt to make sure he still had Kurt's support, which he did, of course. "I just can't do it now."

"Of course, Dave."

 

And then, Kurt decided to stroke the back of Dave's hand with his thumb. Dave gratefully took Kurt's hand in his and held it. It seemed to help Dave find his inner strength – strength to continue.

 

"My Dad has been so depressed lately."

 

Dave said, abruptly changing the subject. Kurt's eyebrows furrowed.

 

Meanwhile outside a few short miles to McKinley there Paul was driving in his grey car to pick up his son from football practice. He made sure to take time off work to give Dave a ride home. It was the least he could do since his job as a lawyer requires him to be in his office most of his days. Paul doesn't know how he does it? He goes to work and tries to do his best with raising his son on his own. All with a smile on his face or what looks like a smile on the outside.

 

"Have you talked to your Dad?"

"No."

"Well, will you talk to-"

"I don't know, Kurt."

 

Dave answered exasperatedly. He turned his head completely away from Kurt. He just didn't know how to talk about what was happening to him, to his Dad, to his…life.

 

Paul is happy. At least that is what he tries to tell himself. Truth is Paul pretends to be happy. He's been so depressed- for years now. He can't explain, Paul thinks he knows why he's depressed but he can't admit to what that is now, or ever. No one knew this about Paul Karofsky but he used to drink- heavily. He couldn't even get out of bed a lot of the time and acting that way nearly cost him his job once.

 

"Kurt it's my entire fault…" Dave agonizingly whispered.

 

Dave is barely audible with his head down as he takes a trip down memory lane. What he remembers is not good. No kid should have to witness what he did.

 

Kurt still has his hand on Dave's hand comforting Dave. He waits patiently until finally asking.

 

"What is your fault Dave?" Kurt leans in whispering.

 

For a while Paul couldn't handle what he's been trying to avoid for years now. But one day when Dave was very young he decided he needed to get his shit together and raise his son. Since the divorce Dave's mother Sarah was no longer in the picture. It was just him and Dave. Dave was so young Paul isn't even sure if Dave remembers him being a drunk. He's hoping he doesn't.

 

"The divorce Kurt….. My parents split when I was thirteen. I did something wrong, I remember I was being a terrible child- a real brat and then the next day mom splits leaving me and dad alone. It's my entire fault. It's the reason dad is so depressed. She left because of me. I know it Kurt, no use in saying it's not my fault."

 

Dave admitted to Kurt with a tear rolling down his eye. That is the first time he ever said that to anyone. He's shocked he's even admitting it to Kurt. They hadn't been friends very long and Dave didn't want Kurt to judge him.

 

Dave had been carrying the shame of what happened between his parents since he was thirteen. No one knew of this inner turmoil that Dave carried with him. Azimio knew his parents were divorced but he had no idea why.

 

Dave couldn't tell him. He just couldn't.

 

Kurt hadn't said anything. He just stayed frozen unable to speak, wanting to wipe Dave's misery away. Kurt was stunned at Dave confession. Kurt had no clue he was going through more than Kurt could ever imagine.

 

Even though Paul has been struggling with his thoughts and emotions with his past through it all he couldn't let Dave down by being drunk every evening. He had to change and he did. For a while his life seemed to improve but now things are different and Paul still can't bring himself to say why out loud.

 

"Dave,"

 

Kurt gently began, his thumb stroking more intensely in Dave's hand, "I'm going to say it anyway."

Dave turned his head and looked at Kurt. Kurt winced at how sad Dave looked. Dave was no longer trying to hide his tears as he looked at Kurt like a lost little boy at the Lima Mall. Kurt focused on his words.

"It was not your fault."

 

Dave looked away.

"Please, Dave." Kurt gently yet firmly implored, "Look at me."

Dave surprised himself with how quickly he looked back at Kurt, giving Kurt's hand a stronger grip. Kurt mused that Dave seemed to be hanging on for dear life. His selfish side wanted to believe this and it may have been true.

"Your parents had troubles way before you were allegedly 'bad' when you were thirteen. Whatever the cause of the end of their marriage, it had to be them.

 

Were they arguing before you turned thirteen?"

 

Dave thought for a minute, looking away. He knew whatever answer he provided would only encourage Kurt. And, for some reason, Dave dreaded telling Kurt the truth. But he had to.

"Yeah. Some."

"I'll bet there were arguments you weren't even aware of."

Dave stared at Kurt's hand in his, loving how soft and firm Kurt's had was. He didn't want to let go. Kurt's strength was immeasurable then.

"I guess."

Dave's phone buzzed. Reluctantly, Dave leaned over, releasing Kurt's hand. He hated how that hand was suddenly so cold.

"Dad's here." Dave's announced. "I have to go."

"OK."

The boys stood then, wiping their faces and grabbing their respective bags. Although little had been resolved, they felt better. Dave felt stronger. Kurt even felt stronger. Sometimes, there's nothing like a united front.

They just looked at each other. No real thoughts were present, but there was a mutual respect in their eyes that told the truth.

"Thank you, Kurt. Good night."

 

And before Kurt could respond, Dave briskly left the choir room. Kurt, stunned, simply grabbed his bag, strolling towards the choir room doors. He had a better understanding of what Dave was going through. He hated how Dave still hated being vulnerable, but completely understood. Dave and his dad Paul were struggling to be happy. Who doesn't?

 

Despite the conditioning he underwent in football, Dave was nearly out of breath running away from the choir room. Things were way too intense and Dave did what he did best – he ran. But he didn't feel the crushing despair he usually felt when the pressure to bolt hit him. That night, Dave was feeling a little lighter in his step as he approached the school's doors.

Suddenly, it occurred to Dave that his Dad would try to pick him up near the stadium. Dave fired off a text, telling his Dad that he was in the student parking lot section of the school. He waited about a half a minute before he received a text back, acknowledging his location.

Paul's grey sedan was soon seen, rounding the corner of the lot. Dave half smiled and walked towards the car. Paul came to a stop just a few feet from Dave. He rounded the front of the car, opened the passenger door and sat down.

"What are you doing over here?" Paul asked. "Why aren't you at the stadium?"

 

Dave's face fell and he turned facing the window. He couldn't reveal to his Dad that he was meeting in the choir room with the only openly gay student at McKinley High School. So, Dave did another thing he was good at – he lied.

"I had to go to my locker. I forgot my chemistry book."

Paul nodded. It was a good lie. Dave threw his big football bag in the backseat and situated himself as Paul drove off.

 

The pair pulled out of the student parking lot in silence. This had become a normal routine to them. With Paul picking up Dave three times a week in the evening, no words were necessary between father and son. But silence has its own noise and even introverts need the distraction of noise from time to time.

Dave casually reached over for the radio and switched it on. He flipped through the channels with annoying speed, giving each station maybe five or seven seconds before switching to something else.

 

**You're far away**

**from me my lov** e

 

Paul's eyes widened. That song, Paul thought. There was something very

familiar about that song, but couldn't place it. The soft, amber tones struck something inside Paul, but he couldn't put his finger on the slightly stinging memory. Quite suddenly, Dave changed the channel.

"No!" Paul yelled.

Dave jumped a little, startled at his Dad's reaction. He stared at his dad in wonder.

"Put it back to that slower song just now." Paul said, only a little calmer.

Dave did as he was told and the moving, emotional song could be heard. Dave sat back and stared out his window. However, Paul was fast becoming lost in thought.

 

**….day we'll be together**

**Yes we will, yes we will**

 

That song, that damn song. Paul narrowed his eyes a little. There was something so poignant touching his heart. He knew that song was associated with a painful and wonderful memory, but he couldn't remember. He just listened and fell into Ms. Ross' words….

 

**Long time ago**

**My, my sweet thing**

**I made a big mistake, honey**

**I said, I said goodbye**

**Oh, oh baby**

**Ever, ever, ever since that day**

**Now, now all I wanna do is cry, cry**

 

Paul suddenly pulled the car back in the lane. He hadn't realized he was so lost in thought that he drifted over the yellow line. Dave momentarily looked at his dad, making sure he was OK to drive. Once confirmed, Dave resumed looking out the passenger door window.

But Paul was lost.

 

Lost in thought. Lost in memories. Lost in sudden breathtaking sadness.

 

With a slightly trembling lower lip, Paul couldn't help but look out the driver's side window suddenly. He now knew the ache in Ms. Ross' voice. He knew of the lost love of his life. Tears threatened to fall down his strong face. Without even realizing it, he spoke aloud…..

 

"Jack…."

Paul Karofsky whispered.

Dave and his dad Paul soon arrived back at the Karofsky house. The men got out of the car at the same time, slamming their doors shut. Dave fiddled with his football bag while Paul wrestled with his house keys. Both guys were too absorbed in their thoughts to even notice each other. If they had, they would've seen how pensive and sad they looked. Paul and Dave were way too much alike. Like father, like son, as the cliché-ridden phrase goes. It couldn't apply even more.

Paul unlocked the door and bolted into the house with as much gusto has his aging frame allowed. Dave followed, but turned the other direction.

"Dad?"

Paul abruptly came to a halt hearing his name called.

"Yeah?"

 

Paul responded. Both men were out of each other's sight, but could clearly still hear each other. Regardless, Paul swiped at his face, making sure there were no tears. Even though Dave didn't see him, Paul didn't want Dave to see his face.

"I got my homework done at school." Dave hollered.

 

"I'm gonna work on the basement."

Paul hesitated. He asked Dave to clean the basement out as the last project of spring cleaning. Of course, it was autumn. The guys weren't exactly punctual when it came to house cleaning.

"OK."

 

Paul replied, slightly subdued.

 

"I'll let you know when dinner's ready."

"OK."

The men separated – Dave to the basement and Paul to his own private hell.

 

Dave was perplexed. If Kurt was right about Dave's fear and anxiety speaking for him, he had to get that under control. Azimio deserved to be relieved of his own anxiety and an apology. And Dave was troubled by his dad's depression, which seemed to worsen in the last twenty minutes.

Dave's mind became a whirlwind of these kinds of thoughts, as he rummaged through old equipment, boxes, and toys from his childhood, baby supplies, and other items. Mindless work was the perfect tool to use for Dave to help sort his thoughts. Dave found his first computer and smiled. He knew it was a piece of junk, but this very PC led Dave to his favorite video game – Resident Evil.

Smiling, Dave resumed rummaging, sweeping up dust from time to time, and sorting. A quiet sneeze escaped his nose.

 

He couldn't help but chuckle from time to time. Soon, trash bags filled with dust and junk were ready to be transported to the curb for trash pickup. One bag was already sealed while a second was almost ready to be sealed.

Kneeling, Dave quickly rummaged through baby supplies, Kurt's hair, photo albums, Kurt's clothes, useless computer equipment, Kurt's quick wit, old childhood toys, and, finally, Kurt's smile. Dave found he loved doing mindless tasks if Kurt could remain in his thoughts. Kurt simply calmed Dave.

 

Dave even managed a little smile, not having any clue where his thoughts about Kurt were taking him.

Dave emerged with one hand filled with photo albums and the other with a dustpan. As he turned towards the second garbage bag, he heard a flat, smacking sound. Looking down, he saw a page from a photo album had slipped out of the black three–ring binder. Dave quickly threw the dust into the bag and turned to grab the page.

But as he grabbed it to place it back in its binder, the page caught Dave's attention. There were only two photographs on this page. Normally, each page could easily hold six photographs. Dave quickly wondered why this page seemed to stand out. He shrugged the thought off as insignificant. He had other, more important thoughts to tend to.

When he opened the photo album and placed page on top, he couldn't help but see the photographs. Something stirred inside Dave in that moment. He studied the photographs.

The first photograph was a Polaroid that was an attempted selfie. Two boys were smiling at the camera, arms around each other's shoulders. Dave flipped the photo. In black handwritten ink, somebody wrote "1984" – but no names. Turning the photo back, he stopped. He realized that one of the boys was a teenage version of his father. Dave hadn't seen his dad smile in so long he almost forgot what it looked like.

And his dad looked so happy! But when Dave looked at his dad's companion, he had no idea who this other kid was. The kid was cute – black hair just below the ear, a gorgeous smile, soft green eyes…..

Dave had no idea what he was seeing. His dad had his arm around another boy and he looked so damned happy!

 

But Dave had no idea who this other kid was – and it bothered him for some reason. The boys looked so happy. Instantly, curiosity won over and he switched his attention to the second photo.

Dave's jaw dropped. There was his dad again as a teenager. But this time, this same boy was facing his dad with a football that appeared to be suddenly thrust between them. And when he looked closer at his dad, he started shaking. There was a phrase at the bottom of the Polaroid in Russian. But the photograph itself consumed Dave!

His dad's lips were puckered like he was anticipating a kiss! From this boy!

Trembling with unknown feelings, Dave couldn't believe his eyes. He had to take a deep breath and relax before he could study the photograph further. This Polaroid seemed so much more personal, more…..loving?

Enraged, Dave turned and marched up the steps, pounding his feet up the staircase. He emerged into the kitchen, his head immediately doing flips in a frantic attempt to locate his father.

"Dad!"

 

Dave called out.

 

"Dad!"

"In here." Dave heard his Dad call out.

Dave's head spun in the direction of his dad's bedroom. Dave marched out of the kitchen, down the hall, and stopped at his dad's bedroom.

"Dad!"

Paul whirled around, completely confused at his son's enraged face.

"What the hell-"

"I should be saying that to you, Dad!"

A moment passed between the two men.

 

Paul was suddenly filled with dread. He looked down and saw Dave had what appeared to be a page from a photo album in his hand. Paul looked even more confused.

"What….who….?"

 

Dave stammered.

 

The page shook in his hand. Paul watched his proud, troubled son tremble, unable and unwilling to do anything about it. Confused, Paul slowly walked up to his angered son. When he was standing eye-to-eye in front of him, he looked down at what Dave had found. Paul angrily snatched it from Dave's hand as Dave continued to glare at his father.

Horror. Fear. Anger. Humility.

 

All of these feelings overwhelmed Paul as his eyes widened at the photographs. He could see himself and somebody else in the photographs. He knew these photos all too well.

Paul took a step back to steady himself. Dave just stood there, rage blasting from his eyes. But Paul was transported to the past, to a past that he held in his hand.

 

A past that resembled the only time in Paul's entire life that he was happy.

"Love?"

 

Dave suddenly interrupted.

 

"I know the Russian word for 'love', Dad."

But Paul barely registered what his son was saying. He stood stoically, lost in the long forgotten photographs. Paul swallowed.

 

"Sit down, Dave."

 

Paul said quietly.

 

"I have something I want to tell you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Paul. You'll see what I mean as I keep reposting. For those who have never read this, next chapter will be a flash back to the year 1984. That'sll I will say for now. Have A Nice Day. Comments and Constructive critisims are welcome. Chapter 4 coming soon. :) x3 
> 
> Thank you for reading. :-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone,
> 
> This is a flashback to 1984. Where we meet my OC Jack. I hope you like him. :) 
> 
> From now on there will be several flashbacks to 1984. This will highlight Jack and Paul's friendship and the hardships they will face.
> 
> Thank you everyone for all your support.
> 
> That's all I wanna say for now. Please Enjoy!

Chapter 4

Lima, Ohio-1984:

"Get him!"

"Grab the fucking loser!"

"Where you going geek?"

"Come back! We just wanna talk to you!"

A group of four or five jocks with cruel smiles holler as they begin to chase a terrified Paul Karofsky.

Paul is trying to leave school, hoping to go unseen at the student entrance.

No such luck.

The group of ruthless bullies had seen Paul. As soon as they did this Paul bolted. Paul wasn't an idiot – he knew they didn't want to talk. Not to somebody like him anyway. It was a trap. He wasn't stupid enough to stay around. Paul was running fast wherever his feet would take him.

There weren't that many students around this time.

Some popular kids stayed behind that had after school activities like football practice or cheerleading practice, etc. Also a few of the non-popular such as the chess team stayed behind as well. Other than that the school was pretty much empty.

As usual the people in the high school couldn't wait to get the hell out of the hell hole that is high school.

Not Paul. He hated high school like any other normal teenager but the reason he wished he could stay longer is because what he knew what was waiting or who, rather, was waiting for him to leave the building.

As Paul was running some students noticed him and the Jocks that were close behind but they said nothing or didn't even try to help Paul.

Paul was used to this by now. This type of thing happened daily for him. He wasn't popular; he didn't belong to any of the popular cliques. He wasn't a jock or anyone special that people would notice. He wasn't built like a body builder; in fact he was a pale scrawny toothpick. That is how he saw his body. He loves himself no doubt but he wished he could at least have some kind of muscle.

Paul was quiet and usually kept to himself. He liked taking pictures more than cheering for some silly football game.

He didn't dress like anyone either. He wasn't into the latest fashion and dressed however he saw fit – not what some dick jock was sporting like most followers at McKinley did.

To put it simply Paul was considered an outcast with no friends besides his camera which he carried around his back pack ever day- even while being chased like he is today.

Breathlessly, he rounded the gymnasium, fast approaching another labyrinth of hallways. The jock bullies, evil smiles and determined looks, were gaining on him. Paul's wild eyes shifted to somewhere, anywhere he could get away. He finally saw a door near the janitor's closet. He blasted through it, unaware the jock bullies weren't far behind.

Paul emerged from the school, backpack struggling to stay on his shoulder. He tried to increase his speed as the relentless bullies matched his.

There was nothing Paul could do and he didn't even realize it. He just kept running.

Running for his life!

Rounding the corner outside the gymnasium, cars were already at a standstill, moving and honking their way out of the school grounds. Students here and there ignored Paul, choosing their own route of departure from the school. Paul was a loner. Nobody cared.

Or, at least, he thought nobody cared.

Wild eyed and terrified, Paul blasted around the corner nearing a few parked cars and a lot of open space. Sheer horror consumed him. Paul had nowhere to run but empty, open space.

That was when he saw something flutter out of the corner of his right eye. His terrified eyes, at first, wouldn't let him look that way, until the flutter became more insistent.

"Here!"

Paul heard.

Primally, Paul turned to the direction of the voice. There stood a male student, frantically waving him over.

Paul's choices were very limited and his survival instinct simply followed directions. He ran towards the flutter – this student's flailing arm.

"Get in!" The student ordered.

"What?!" Paul roared.

"Just get in! You wanna be jock lunch meat?!"

Now completely out of options, Paul dove into the bed of this student's truck. Lying flat on his back and out of breath, he looked up into a cloudy, sunless sky. He tried his best to calm his breathing but Paul was absolutely terrified. The sky offered no comfort.

However, Paul chanced a glance to his left. Standing on the other side of the truck, was the male student, leaning against his truck, just a few feet away. Quickly, Paul heard footsteps and covered his hand over his mouth. Time had run out.

"Hey!"

Paul heard. With covered mouth and wide eyes, he stole a glance down. His feet were just inside the bed of the truck, out of sight.

"Yeah?"

"Did you see a geek run by here?"

"Kid with blonde hair?

"He took off towards the front of the school."

More footsteps.

But these footsteps were rapidly falling away. Breathing hadn't ceased to be a problem and Paul was still terrified. He moved his eyes back to the sky. No thoughts were in his head and he was completely at the mercy of this mysterious student.

"Coast is clear." Paul wriggled out of the bed of the truck, completely ignoring the male student. He rounded the corner of the truck and ducked behind one of the tires. He grabbed his knees in a squatted, fetal position and said nothing. He heard a sigh.

"Come on, lunch meat. Get in."

Paul stared at the truck and watched as the passenger door in front of him opened. He couldn't look up yet. He just couldn't. Again, he heard another sigh.

Now that the chase had ended, adrenalin was kicking in – Paul began to shake, still squatted beside the front tire.

Whoever was standing beside Paul had plenty of patience. Paul saw out of the corner of his eye that this male student was simply standing there, probably staring at him. Paul didn't care. His shaking was getting worse and he was frozen to the spot.

"Come on." The student said, compassionately.

For the first time, Paul turned his head to the left and saw a hand, offering to pull him up. Paul finally looked up and saw the student.

Paul recognized him from the hallways and a vague kind of serenity began to flow through him. Hesitantly, he placed his thin hand in the firm one and stood.

Paul was only a few inches shorter, but smaller in build. Yet, the kind eyes and slightly amused expression made the feeling of serenity in Paul that much stronger. The boy accomplice was smiling.

He extended his other hand towards the passenger seat. Paul turned his attention to the seat, noticing fast food wrappers and a cassette deck. Still stunned, yet gradually calming down, Paul slowly entered the truck. Once he was seated, the student closed the door, walked around the front of the truck and got in the driver's seat.

"Friends of yours?!" The boy eagerly said with a broad, boyish smile on his magnificent face. Waves of relaxation tried their best to absorb into Paul's terrified body. Paul tried his best to smile, but his facial muscles just seemed to twitch, as he stared at his hands. The boy's smile faltered a little.

Suddenly, Paul's head snapped quickly to this mysterious boy, only to see an ornery smile suddenly on his face. Paul sighed.

"Sure." Paul shakily, dryly replied. But this time, traces of a small smile were finally on Paul Karofsky's face.

"You like Madonna?" Paul asked disbelievingly, snatching up a cassette case.

"N-no" The boy hesitantly replied. "OK, well, yeah, a little." Embarrassed, the boy looked away.

"That's cool. But what-"

"Hey!" The boy excitedly interrupted, "Want me to take you home?"

And there was that dazzling, ornery smile again on this mysterious, life-saving boy. Paul watched the boy's eyes dance on his excited face, clearly happy with this sudden suggestion. However, Paul couldn't help but be cautious.

"Well, ummm…." Paul replied haphazardly, "I don't make it a habit to get into stranger's cars."

The boy's smile started to falter until an idea suddenly struck him.

"Well…." The boy again returned, smiling,

"OK. Let's change that. I'm Jack!" Jack extended his hand. Paul looked at the hand and back up to Jack. Jack's smile couldn't have been more open and honest. And yet, still ornery and slightly amused.

It was difficult for Paul to refuse this offer. Smiling, Paul gingerly placed his hand in Jack's only to realize that Jack had snatched it up and wildly began shaking.

Jack giggled as he realized what he was doing and how stunned Paul was. Paul couldn't help but smile back. All traces of fear and paranoia in Paul were gone, replaced with calm and humor.

The hand shaking suddenly came to an end, but the boys were smiling at each other.

"Well," Paul began, "I'm Paul."

"Hi Paul!"

"Hi"

More smiling. The boys were happy in the truck. Only twenty minutes or so had passed since the jock bullies raced in the wrong direction. Paul suddenly frowned.

"Do you think they've given up their search?" Paul asked.

Jack simply shrugged.

"Probably."

They stared at each other, unaware that there was something building here. A kinship of some kind was being established. Perhaps a friendship.

"Well," Jack began, again with that ornery smile, "NOW can I take you home?"

Paul found it more and more difficult to say no to this joking character.

"Alright." Paul said neutrally.

Animatedly, Jack immediately dug his keys out of his pocket and turned on the engine. The engine roared to life as did the stereo.

_To be where the sun warms the sky_

_when it's time for siesta you can watch them go by_

The boys looked at each other, laughter exploding inside the truck Madonna's "La Isla Bonita" was blasting on the radio.

They shared a good-natured laugh as Jack stared at Paul. He found he struggled to genuinely take his eyes off him. But, Jack now had a mission – get Paul home safely.

Jack casually drove. Song after song came on the radio as the boys sat in relative silence. Occasionally, Jack would steal a glance at Paul, making sure he was comfortable and alright.

Paul would sometimes give directions to his house, but conversation was at a standstill. Jack almost frowned.

Suddenly, a slower, different song came on the radio.

_Someday we'll be together_

_Say, say, say it again_

_Someday we'll be together_

_Oh, yeah, oh yeah_

 

Jack, stealing yet another glance, saw Paul staring out the window. Suddenly, Jack began to sing, completely absorbed in Diana Ross' "Someday We'll Be Together." He watched the road, yet couldn't help but be overjoyed at providing such soothing entertainment via music.

His smile couldn't have been broader.

"Do you know this song?" Jack asked curiously, suddenly stopping his singing.

"No." Jack turned his head back towards the road.

"Too bad, you're missing out."

"I am, am I?" Paul teasingly asked.

"Yup. Diana Ross is amazing." Paul faced Jack, watching as Jack pounded his fist over his own heart.

"She hits you right here. Every time." Fascinated, Jack returned his gaze from time to time to this interesting, different boy seated in his passenger seat. He loved the soft blonde hair and how serene he looked, especially compared to earlier. Jack knew next to nothing else about Paul, but found he didn't care. He was comfortable with Paul. He felt…safe. So, Jack smiled. And smiled.

"I'll have to buy her album." Paul said.

"Do that." The song continued its aching arc. Paul's eyes closed, falling into the song, as Jack drove and sang. The two boys just fell into the song, cruising along Lima's country roads.

Finally, Jack arrived at Paul's house. The song came to an abrupt end.

Jack gingerly pulled his truck into the driveway of Paul's simple country home. He put the truck in park and turned towards Paul.

"Thanks again for…." Paul stammered.

"Sure. No problem." Jack replied, with that dazzling smile.

"Hey! If you wanna borrow my Diana Ross album, I'll bring it to school tomorrow."

"OK.". Paul replied, rather quickly. Jack's smile lit up the cloudy sky.

They stared at each other for just a moment until Paul realized he needed to explain to his parents why he was so late coming home from school.

Paul turned and opened the truck's door and getting out. But as he passed by the front of the truck, he noticed Jack was rolling down his window. Paul came to a complete stop.

"Catch ya' tomorrow!" Jack loudly said. And as he was backing up out of the driveway, he returning his smiling gaze to Paul and suddenly winked at him.

Paul, stunned, simply smiled. Jack finished pulling out of the driveway and left.

Paul reflected on what happened in the last half hour. He went from terrified, near-bullying victim, to meeting this funny, confusing, helpful boy named Jack. He couldn't help but smile a little as he turned towards his house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone, 
> 
> We are back in present time with Dave, Paul, Kurt and Azimio. And we learn a few more things about Paul's past with Jack.
> 
> As this story goes on some of the chapters are really long. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for the support! :-) 
> 
> I don't own Glee or the music being mentioned in any of my chapters.   
> If you have questions let me know.
> 
> With that comments are welcomed :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Chapter 5

Tension was high now that both Karofsky men were seated in the living room after Paul revealed part of his still too difficult past.

Paul had asked his son to join him downstairs so he could talk about something very painful. He wasn't ready to reveal so much just yet, he had to explain something to his son.

Paul can't dismiss what Dave found.

The photos and memories of who he was before changed forever. The two boys in the photos were so happy and serene when the pictures were taken. He had to face this sooner or later. Paul kept everything in for so long it was bursting to come out.

After Dave found the photos Paul knew he couldn't hide anymore. He owed some sort of explanation so Dave wouldn't jump to conclusions about what he saw in the photos.

Paul is wracked with guilt as he looks over at his son's shocked face. Back then Paul couldn't have imagined how he would make it without Jack.

Now things were different and still too hard to get out. Paul only revealed how they met and nothing more. He couldn't even bring himself to tell Dave his best friend's name.

"So," Dave slowly began, "you mean to tell me that you and your best friend were…close?" Paul, seated on the end of his sofa seat, wouldn't even look at his son. "Yes." He replied softly.

Dave looked at his forlorn dad. How could the closest of friends look so…. He looked at the photos again.

Two teenage boys doing something so incredibly silly looking as happy as they could be.

But there was something else about these photographs. Yes, they looked like they were the very closest of friends, but they looked like they were more.

"Well then…." Dave stammered. "Why are you….?" Paul sighed.

"Dave." Dave looked up and saw his dad's pained face. His eyes looked tired and he was slumped forward, arms dangling.

"He and I got through a lot back then…" "What was his name?" Dave asked.

"What?" Paul asked, surprised.

Dave narrowed his eyes. "What was his name?" Dave repeated; a little annoyed.

Paul's head shifted to the side a little. He clasped his hands, rotating ever so slowly. Dave watched this all, clearly angry and uncomfortable with this situation.

"That's not important, Dave." Dave inhaled sharply and then left his air out slowly. Every single thing about these two photographs left Dave extremely uneasy and he was losing his battle to control his temper.

"Not important?!" Dave roared. "You won't even tell me his name?"

No response.

"Look Dad, you two look like…."

"Like what, Dave." Paul responded softly, not even daring to look at his son.

Dave studied the photographs again and again, quickly switching from one to the other.

He finally looked back up at his dad and found the courage to ask a question.

"Dad?" Dave quietly began, "Are you….?" Again, no response.

Paul sat there, looking defeated.

Dave shifted in the love seat, across from his father. Paul's unsaid response still left Dave feeling uncomfortable.

_I still don't understand._

Suddenly, Dave stood up, staring down at his downtrodden father.

"I'll put these back where they were." Dave sullenly said.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Paul exerted his authority.

"No." Paul said, "I'll take them." "Dad, I'm just going to put them back where I-" "I said I'll take them." Paul extended his hand.

There was a silent, eye-staring contest. Father and son seemed to be competing for who would get their way. Dave's angry and confused expression contrasted Paul's beaten down and tired one.

"I'm putting them back, Dad." Dave said with an enormous air of authority. Paul sighed and sat back down.

"Don't put too much into those photographs, Dave." Paul quietly began.

"Those were…difficult times." Dave furrowed his brows, confused and still angry.

"Whatever." Dave stormed out of the room. Paul slumped back in the sofa.

_Bourbon sounds good right now_ Paul thought.

The next day, Dave was rounding the corner, headed towards the weight room.

Dave was a big guy and lifting weights was a great, stress-relieving exercise. Many times, looked forward to it. Lifting weights came natural to him and he even loved competing with his teammates.

But he was also troubled. He couldn't get those photographs out of his mind. He also couldn't get his dad's evasiveness out of his mind. He found it difficult to accept that his father had secrets that hid everything.

It's amazing the power photographs can have. Throughout the school day, Dave was lost in his thoughts, rolling around the imagery of his dad barely looking at him. Dave was surprised his dad insisted on having the photos back, but Dave refused. Instead of putting them back, he hid them.

There was more to this story and Dave couldn't stop investigating. However, his day wasn't all troubled thoughts and gloom and doom. Twice, Kurt smiled at him.

The history between Kurt and Dave was not nice. Kurt had an amazing knack of accepting apologies and moving on that Dave couldn't understand it.

But he gladly accepted it. Just after first period, Dave was leaving history class, headed towards geometry

. As he strolled down the hall, lost in his world of absent-minded fist bumps with teammates and his dad's photographs, Kurt Hummel was at his locker. Dave sideways looked at Kurt. Immaculate as always, Kurt was dressed in a Marc Jacobs sweater and dark pants.

Dave absolutely admired Kurt's fashion sense. Looking up, Kurt seemed to be laughing at something he was reading. Kurt suddenly put it in the shelf, closed the locker door, and turned, heading away from Dave.

Dave stepped up his pace. Soon, he was almost side-by-side with Kurt, but not right beside him.

Dave still couldn't get too close to the only openly gay kid in his class. He just couldn't come out – yet. So, Dave wanted to show some kind of appreciation to Kurt, publicly. Dave, with head bowed slightly, smiled sideways at Kurt.

When Kurt finally looked over, he couldn't help but shyly smile back and immediately put his head right back up, headed to his next class. Soon, they parted.

Dave smiled. Just after lunch, Dave was walking to economics class.

He hated it and wasn't looking forward to it. Frowning, Dave turned the corner in the hall and discovered Kurt was walking towards him, headed to his geography class.

Passing each other, Dave was stunned when Kurt bashfully smiled at him!

Dave didn't even try to hide his pleasure with that. Dave eagerly smiled back, and then quickly dropped his smile to a small grin.

He subtly nodded to Kurt, which brought a little giggle out of the fashionisto. Dave smiled. So, Dave's day wasn't all bad.

Thinking of these thoughts, he walked into the locker room and changed into his workout clothes.

A few minutes later, dressed in McKinley shorts and a white t-shirt, Dave went to the weight room.

His favorite bench was available and he immediately headed towards it. Strapping his weight belt on his waits, he adjusted the dumbbells to his favorite starting weight – 150 pounds. Smiling, he prided that he was the only McKinley student that could start at this weight. He quickly did ten reps, rested a little, and did ten more.

He sat up, positioning himself to add more weight when something caught his eye. Turning up, he saw his best friend Azimio Adams standing about ten feet away. He was frowning.

Or, at least Dave thought he was frowning. Azimio had an expression of bewilderment, totally focused on Dave.

Dave furrowed his brows.

"Sup?" Dave said hesitantly.

"Sup" Azimio replied absentmindedly.

The two boys just looked at each other. Azimio with a slightly shocked expression contrasted Dave's confused one.

Moments passed and neither boy said anything.

"You OK?" Dave asked, turning his head slightly away from his best friend. Azimio didn't answer.

Instead, Azimio held his gaze for another few more seconds and then turned, briskly walking away. Dave couldn't stand it.

"What is your problem?" Dave asked, standing up facing him.

Azimio came to a stop, but did not turn around. He said nothing.

"Well?!" Dave roared.

There was nobody else in the weight room to interrupt them and Dave could tell something was on Azimio's mind.

Azimio stood still for a moment and then very slowly turned around.

He eyed his best friend contemptuously. The boys stood staring. Suddenly, angrily, Azimio rushed right up to Dave and stood in his face! Shocked, Dave's jaw dropped as Azimio furiously glared at Dave.

"Something you wanna say to me, bro?" Azimio said with a quiet fury.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Azimio was silent for a second, his angry breathing wafting in Dave's face.

Dave was completely bewildered and a little panic-stricken.

He'd rarely seen his best friend like this and didn't understand.

"You know," Azimio began with that same quiet fury that Dave rarely saw, "I always wondered why you and that Lopez chick didn't date for very long." Dave, still confused, was now suddenly angry.

"We didn't get along, Az" Dave angrily replied, brows furrowed.

"Uh huh" Azimio replied. "'didn't get along.'"

Dave was now furious.

"What the hell are you getting at, Az?!" Azimio glared even harder at Dave.

"Why don't you tell me?" Stunned, Dave was struggling to control his temper.

Around them, the room remained empty.

"What the hell are you getting…." Dave started, and then with horror, his eyes widened.

"Uh huh" Azimio said, taking a couple of steps back, still angry. "Thought so"

"Az. Az. Talk to me" Dave pleaded.

"I don't have to. You already told me. An' you couldn't even say it out loud."

"Do you have," Dave roared, "any idea how hard this is? I'm not even completely sure what the hell you're talking about?".

"You!" Azimio screamed. "You lying son of a bitch!" Dave began shaking.

Azimio figured it out?

"Az…" "You haven't had," Azimio cockily began, "a girlfriend in a long time D." Azimio began to fiddle with a fingernail as he talked.

"An' then Lopez comes along and then, there she goes." Azimio waved his hand in the air as if he was dismissing Santana Lopez himself.

Dave couldn't stop shaking even if he wanted to. He just stared at his best friend as if he was lost, embarrassed, and scared. He hadn't planned on this happening at all!

"Just tell me." Azimio said, looking away. "Is it true?" Dave couldn't answer.

He didn't know how. He'd never been put in this position before and didn't know what to do. In his mind, he tried to imagine Kurt was there to give him advice, but Kurt's advice would be to just come out.

But this is David Karofsky we're talking about here, and Dave was far from ready.

But here was his best friend, demanding the truth. Didn't his best friend deserve the truth?

"Yes…" Dave whispered.

Azimio nodded, still looking away. Neither boy said anything for nearly a minute.

Tension was mounting. Dave's breathing intensified. Azimio was as still as a statue.

"Nobody can know yet." Dave said quietly.

"I can't…" Azimio slowly turned and looked at Dave as if he didn't know him anymore.

"I hate dis." Azimio quietly said.

Dave could've erupted into tears right then. This was the reaction he never wanted to receive. No gay man does. And Dave wasn't prepared for it.

Instead, he stared at Azimio, wondering if he was going to have a best friend anymore.

Terrified, he wondered if Azimio would tell the whole school. He waited for Azimio's response. But none was given.

Azimio simply turned and left. Dave exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Az!" Dave called out, but, again, no response. Dave was absolutely terrified.

.

Kurt was perplexed. Glee ended a few minutes before, but he stayed behind. After saying goodbyes to the other glee members, he fiddled with his backpack strap while going over the unusually subdued text message he received not too long ago –

**Can I tlk to u in coir rm?**

Kurt knew it was from Dave. Kurt responded with a simple, "Yes." But, Kurt was surprised at how calm the message seemed.

When Dave wanted to meet before, he was anxious and scared. But this time, it seemed that something important was on Dave's mind and he needed to talk.

Kurt sighed.

He had mixed feelings about helping out his old bully. Although they got along on the surface, there was an undercurrent of resilient fear and hesitancy in Kurt that wouldn't go away.

After all, Kurt was bullied by Dave for several months. That kind of fear simply doesn't go away overnight. In addition, he wanted to go home.

Although Kurt liked being a Gay Mentor, he did have a life. School, part-time work in his Dad's shop, glee, and glee rehearsals kept his life busy.

He had a lot of homework that night too. He was troubled with how to approach Dave about these sudden needs for conversation. But he completely understood the importance of them. Lost in his troubled thoughts, he didn't even see Dave enter the room.

Dave had taken at least five steps towards him before Kurt finally noticed. And then, Kurt did the worst thing imaginable – he jumped.

"Oh!" Kurt apologetically began, "I'm sorry, Dave. I didn't see you come in." Dave looked at Kurt with understanding in his eyes.

"From now on," Dave understatedly said, "I'll announce when I arrive. The last thing I want to do is …scare you anymore."

"Dave, really," Kurt said, "I was just surprised – that's all." Dave rolled his eyes.

"Yes. Yes you were surprised. Your former…bully arrived. No wonder you were startled." Kurt paused before he answered.

It was confession time. "Alright, Dave." Kurt began. "Yes, I still have some residual fear to get over. But you're no longer Karofsky. You're Dave I just need…time." Dave nodded, looking away.

He sat down in one of the chairs beside Kurt, dropping his football bag on the floor. Kurt eyed him from the short distance.

Dave looked lost in thought, as well as a little beat up.

"Rough practice?" Kurt asked, noticing some cuts on the backs of Dave's hands.

"Not really." Dave answered, distractedly. Kurt sighed. He wanted to be helpful. He was annoyed. He wanted to be understanding. He was frustrated.

Kurt sighed again.

"Kurt?" Dave asked.

"Yeah?"

"If you ever get tired of me, I'll understand. I mean if I-" "Dave." Kurt said with authority.

"Remember. We're in the same boat here at McKinley High School. We're both gay and we both could use each other's support to get through it."

"Seems like I need you more than you'll ever need me." Dave said sullenly. Kurt sighed, completely annoyed.

"Well," Kurt angrily said, "get over it. There will be a time when I will need you." Dave looked at him disbelievingly.

"What?" Kurt said, with a hand over his heart, "You think I have all the answers? That I have all the support I need? Sure, Mercedes and even Rachel are helpful. And, of course, Finn tries."

Dave rolled his eyes at the mention of Finn's name. Kurt smiled.

"Just remember, Dave. We started off rocky, but I think we're headed in the right direction." Dave mulled these words over. Kurt had a point.

There was strength in numbers, after all, and he knew (hoped?) Kurt would need him. Everybody wants to be relied on from time to time and Dave was no exception.

The boys sat in silence for a few moments, staring at absolutely nothing. They were lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Kurt gave in.

"So," Kurt gently began, "what happened?" Suddenly, Dave roared with laughter.

The booming sound surprised Kurt and made him jump a little.

If Dave noticed, he didn't stop laughing. The sound had a tinge of despair to it, though, and Kurt couldn't help but notice. Dave's laughter died away, as his eyes drifted towards the floor.

"Kurt? Can I ask you something…personal?" Kurt's eyes narrowed for a bit before he answered.

"Of course. Shoot."

Dave turned and faced Kurt. Enamored as he was of Kurt's fashion sense, Dave couldn't focus on that now. Or Kurt's coif. Or Kurt's beautiful lips. Or Kurt's dangerously beautiful blue eyes.

Dave shook his head.

"Do you have anything you'd like to talk to me about?" Startled, Kurt barely hesitated in response.

"Not at the moment." Dave momentarily looked disappointed.

Then, he smiled just a little – that cute, boyish, proud smile which Kurt grew to like. Kurt was very, very gradually trusting his former bully more and more.

"Well, if you ever do, call me." Confused, Kurt said, "OK."

"I mean it, Kurt." Dave said, with intense authority. Kurt stared at Dave's hazel eyes, noticing for the first time that Dave's eyes were beautiful in the late afternoon sun.

The blinds were half closed, yet sunlight streamed through, giving the room a slightly darkened tone. But Dave's eyes held nothing but pride and promise. Kurt smiled.

"Of course, Dave." Kurt took a big breath and quickly exhaled.

"Now, what's on your mind?" Dave looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to Kurt.

"Well, a couple of things actually." Dave began. He stopped and chuckled.

"God, where do I begin?" Kurt smiled, and sang, "Let's start at the very beginning…a very good place to start…when you read, you begin-"

"Enough of the musical references!" Dave interrupted with a laugh.

"Hey! You got the reference, you know." Dave laughed.

"Yeah, I did. Proud of me?"

"Absolutely!" The boys shared a good-natured laugh.

It was a fun moment in an otherwise slightly tense situation. It was just the tension reliever Dave needed, so he could continue. Kurt swiped a loose strand of his hair off his forehead as he repositioned himself in his seat. Dave just kept smiling. Then, reality reasserted itself. Dave's smile faded away. Kurt took the cue and paid attention.

"Azimio confronted me. He does know." Kurt's eyes widened. He didn't say anything, coaxing Dave to continue.

"I was in the weight room. I was at the workbench in the far corner." Dave suddenly smiled.

"Did you know I'm the only student that starts lifting at 150 pounds? The other guys have to start at, like 75 pounds or something. It's not even that heavy when you think-"

"Dave!"

"What?"

"Stop sidetracking. Spill the beans!"

Dave's smile quickly turned into an embarrassed smile. He looked away for a moment, that boyish, broad, proud smile enveloping his face.

He seemed lost in thought in that moment, until he heard snapping fingers from Kurt's hand.

"Oh. Sorry." Kurt repositioned himself on his seat, in anticipation. Dave found he loved watching Kurt do simple things like this. "/

"Well, he's pissed." Kurt frowned.

"Did anything bad happen?"

"No. Not really. I mean, he brought up Santana and the fact that she's been my only girlfriend since, like, forever." Dave's words softened as he continued.

"He asked me if I was gay." Dave said, "But it was weird, Kurt."

"How so?" "Well," Dave said, looking at Kurt square in his beautiful blue eyes, "Az never actually said the word 'gay'. You know, like he didn't want to say it or something."

"Doesn't surprise me" Kurt said dryly. Dave looked at him with mild curiosity before Kurt urged him to continue.

"Az basically deduced I'm gay. He said that he didn't like it and walked away." Kurt looked away. He simply waited for Dave to continue before responding.

"So," Dave said, "I told Az that I can't come out yet. He just walked away."

Dave dropped his face in his hands, the rest of his words coming out muffled and afraid.

"I don't know what he's going to do, Kurt." Kurt hesitated, thinking the situation over.

He looked towards the piano, eying its smooth, black features and startling white keys. Lost in thought, Dave studied him.

The boys were silent for nearly a minute before Dave broke the silence. "I don't think he's gonna tell anybody." Kurt brought his attention back to Dave.

"Why?" "Because it's Az" Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion. Dave continued.

"Kurt, he's been my best friend for many years now. If he doesn't know how to handle a situation, he does nothing. At least, he does nothing for now."

"But," Kurt argued, "You said he won't do anything, right?" Dave nodded.

"For as long as you need?" Dave sighed.

"I think so."

"Then, I'm proud of you Dave." Dave didn't even try to hide his surprise.

"Why? What did I do?" "Dave," Kurt said reassuringly, "you know Azimio. You know what he's like." Kurt chose this moment to sigh before continuing.

"Look," Kurt said, "if you think you know Azimio has…" Kurt faltered momentarily, "A good heart, then he does." Dave looked away for a moment before returning back to Kurt.

"He really does, Kurt. But this…this is such a big surprise for him. I don't think he wants to… hurt me or anything."

"Well, you would know before I would, definitely."

"Kurt, he's not a bad guy." "Really? In between slushies and locker checks, he's not a bad guy?" Dave eyed him curiously.

Azimio was his best friend and he would protect him as long as he could. But Kurt had been the recipient of some of Azimio's worst behavior. He couldn't blame Kurt for his disbelief.

"Az doesn't show his 'good guy' side to very many people. But I've seen it before." Dave said proudly.

"There haven't been very many slushies or locker checks lately, have there?"

"No," Kurt admitted, "there haven't."

"That's my doing." Dave said smugly.

"OK, Dave. I'll believe you. I'll…trust you."

Dave just stared at Kurt. It was the first time Kurt said anything about trusting Dave.

Dave couldn't believe his ears. But Kurt was trying to accept Dave, faults and secrets and all. Dave just couldn't help but smile.

Soon, that smile broadened and broadened. Kurt, noticing, smiled back.

Kurt knew why Dave was smiling. It was a warm moment for the boys. Former bully and former bully victim were mending fences, even approaching trust and friendship.

Dave couldn't have been happier and relieved. Kurt seemed calmer, too. Then, Dave looked away for a moment before digging in his football bag.

Kurt watched as Dave rummaged.

Kurt couldn't help but notice Dave's enormous arms, working their way through the bag. Kurt found he had to look away, for fear of noticing his former bully's strong, beautiful, masculine arms.

Dave pulled two photographs out of the bag and handed them to Kurt. Kurt took the photos and, immediately, his eyes furrowed in confusion. Then, as quickly as that confusion came, Kurt smiled.

"Adorable!" Kurt exclaimed. Dave frowned. Kurt looked up and, upon seeing Dave's frown, dropped his smile.

"Who are these cute boys? The photos are so old…." Kurt said.

"My Dad and some boy." Kurt didn't hide his surprise. He looked back at the photos, holding them closer to his eyes.

He turned them over, read the date and brief Russian, before turning them over again. He wanted to smile, but these photos clearly troubled Dave.

"Well, your dad and this boy are so…" And that's when Kurt understood. He looked up and saw the sadness on Dave's face.

"Wait. Does that mean…?" Kurt stopped.

He stared at Dave, hoping to get some answers.

"I don't know." Dave whispered. "I don't know." Kurt looked at Dave before he couldn't resist looking at the photos again.

Kurt saw how happy Dave's father was, arm-in-arm with this mysterious boy.

He flipped to the second photo, loving the playfulness of it. This time, he couldn't help but smile.

"Sweet, aren't they?" Dave said bitterly. Kurt looked up, dropping the photos in his lap.

"Did you talk to your-" "Of course I did." Dave angrily interrupted. Kurt, perturbed, just stared at Dave.

"S-sorry" Kurt sighed. He needed answers. Little did he know that Dave needed them too.

"Dave," Kurt gently began, "this is your dad, right? Right here on the left?" He held up the cute photograph of the attempted kiss, thwarted by a football.

"Yeah" Dave responded dejectedly. "Well, then…" Kurt stammered, "Does that mean… that your dad…is…" This time, Dave sighed.

"I don't know." Dave responded. And then, a heartbeat later, Dave said, "Yeah, I think so." "Woah" Kurt quietly said.

"Woah is right." Silence.

Neither boy knew what to say or do. Kurt merely studied the photographs again while Dave watched.

The air was still and tense again, while sunlight dropped as the late afternoon progressed.

"Dave?"

"Yeah?" "Can I keep these photographs for a while?" Dave was surprised.

"I don't care. Burn them if you want."

Kurt was alarmed.

"Burn them?! No way! I just…I don't know why I want to keep them for a while."

Then he thought for a second before stating, "I just don't want you destroying them."

Dave was angry. "Why? Don't think I can handle that my dad might be..."

"Gay?" Dave stood up. "I gotta go." But Dave didn't move from his spot. Kurt watched him.

"Dave," Kurt gently began, "we just gotta think about this. Sit back down." Dave sighed and hesitantly sat back down.

"When you talked to your dad," Kurt began, almost with an air of interrogation, "what did your dad say?"

"He didn't say much." Dave replied bitterly. "Just that him and this nameless boy were 'close friends', whatever that really means."

"'Close friends'…." Kurt said. "Wait! 'Nameless boy'?"

"Yeah," Dave replied, still bitter, "he didn't think it was important to tell me this kid's name."

Kurt didn't hide his surprise, but realized Dave didn't need any more interrogation. Still, it was odd that his dad didn't reveal the name.

He mentally shrugged it off – there were more important issues to deal with in that moment.

The boys were silent, lost in their own thoughts. Then, Kurt did something he didn't want to do right then – he yawned. Dave noticed.

"Come on." Dave said, standing up. "I have my Dad's car today. I'll take you home."

"I have my own car. But thanks." Fidgeting nervously, Dave just watched Kurt from his upright position. He saw how straight and perfect Kurt's part in his hair really was, musing how long it must've taken Kurt to do his hair every morning.

It was a pleasant distraction from the tension.

"Go home, Kurt. You're tired."

"I'm not tiraaaaaaaahhhhh." Kurt couldn't even get that sentence out before another yawn fell out of his mouth. The boys chuckled.

"Well, Mr. Karofsky," Kurt began, getting up, affixing his backpack over his shoulder, "I am taking these photographs with me. We can talk about these tomorrow." Dave didn't hide his surprise.

"You mean, you'd like to meet again? Here? Same time?"

"Sure," Kurt casually replied, "don't you?" Smiling, Dave replied, "Sure!"

"OK, then. Good night Dave." And with that, Kurt strode about four or five steps away from a still-stunned Dave until he came to an abrupt halt. Kurt did an about face and strode right back up to Dave.

He took Dave's hand into his own. "It'll be alright, Dave." Kurt said gently, eying Dave. Dave momentarily lost in Kurt's azure eyes, softly responded, "OK."

Kurt gave Dave's hand a final, gentle squeeze, turned, and left the room.

Dave stared after him, wondering what really had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :-) 
> 
> Chapter 6 is coming soon. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, here's the deal with this chapter – we see Mercedes and Kurt again. Kurt's asked Mercedes to help him with some research. Azimio even makes a brief appearance! Then, Dave and Kurt check out what Kurt found out. This chapter's kinda short, but that may change in the future.  
> I DON'T OWN GLEE.  
> Enjoy! CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS ALWAYS WELCOMED :) Thank you everybody!

Chapter 6

Mercedes Jones would never call herself an assistant. However, this was the position she found herself in, in the school's library. Upon request by her best friend Kurt, she was looking for school yearbooks from the mid-1980s. Frowning, she walked down the slightly dusty aisles, in the public records section of the library, scrunching her nose in disgust.

She sighed as she approached the yearbook section. Mercedes didn't like Kurt's secrecy. Whatever the real issue was with Kurt, she knew she would and could help him.

 

Rounding another aisle, she flipped her long wavy hair away from her right eye. She walked slowly, reading the years in reverse chronological order – 2000s, 1990s, and then slowing once she got to the 1980s. There on the shelves were individual copies of yearbooks, complete with the style on the cover from the times.

 

She grabbed five yearbooks – 1982 – 1986.

Frowning even further, she scooped the dusty, hard-bound books in the crook of her arm and turned to check them out.

The librarian was a cute young woman not often associated with this kind of work. The adorable redhead smiled at Mercedes as she checked out the yearbooks. Politely smiling back, Mercedes Jones took the yearbooks and briskly walked out of the library.

 

She hated hauling these yearbooks around all morning and wasn't scheduled to give them to Kurt until lunchtime. So, she turned on her heel, walking towards her locker. But as she turned, she bumped into something hard and all the yearbooks fell to the floor.

 

Sighing, she bent down to pick them up only to notice someone of her skin color was helping her. She was able to grab two of the yearbooks, before the other three were politely held out for her.

 

"Thanks, Azimio."

 

Mercedes said, rather coolly. She still didn't like this kid.

 

"You're welcome."

 

The two froze in the hallway. Mercedes rolled her eyes slightly and moved past Azimio. She felt his eyes on her, but nothing was said. Azimio Adams had never done anything nice to her before, but the self –proclaimed diva would and should receive much more than a nice gesture before she could forgive him for past atrocities.

 

Lunchtime.

 

The sunshine poured down on Kurt and made him unusually hot. Kurt was never one for being very warm, but found he loved it when it happened. Staring at the courtyard, Kurt's hand brushed along the pocket that held the two mysterious photographs. He didn't even hear Mercedes' arrival.

 

"Mercedes!"

 

Kurt said, jumping a little, "You scared me."

 

"Sorry boo."

 

Mercedes said, in a subdued manner.

 

"Here's the package you asked for?"

 

Mercedes handed over the yearbooks to Kurt. Then, Mercedes looked at her best friend rather oddly.

 

"How come you couldn't get the yearbooks yourself?"

 

Mercedes bluntly asked.

Kurt looked at her with a sideways glance, slightly annoyed.

 

"I mean," Mercedes apologetically began, "I don't mind helping, but…."

 

Kurt looked away before answering, not liking what he was about to say.

 

"Some of the worst homophobia in this school goes on in the library."

 

Kurt replied, still looking away.

 

"I know I shouldn't run from it, but I find avoidance that much better."

 

Mercedes said nothing, simply staring at him.

 

"I see"

 

Mercedes said, not completely believing him.

 

"But thank you for the yearbooks. I owe you."

 

Kurt said, now looking back at Mercedes, quickly admiring her black blouse.

 

Mercedes smiled, following Kurt's eyes. Frank appreciation is always a plus, especially from one self-proclaimed diva to another.

 

"What did you bring for lunch?"

 

Kurt asked, hoping to distract her from the whole yearbooks question.

 

"Oh, just a salad" Then, she looked over at Kurt.

 

"You too, by the looks of it"

 

"Yeah"

 

The two took a few bites of their salad in silence. There was a slight tension in the air and Kurt knew exactly why – his best friend was curious and concerned about Kurt's little pet project.

 

And who wouldn't be? It is a very odd request to get yearbooks from thirty years ago for no reason at all.

"Kurt?"

 

Kurt hesitated, slightly sighing.

 

"Yes, Mercedes?"

 

"Are you sure you can't talk about-"

 

"Mercedes, I swear to God, if you don't stop asking me about them I will tear every hand-made garment in your luxurious wardrobe!"

 

Mercedes looked at him in shock.

 

Kurt rarely got nasty with her.

 

"I-I'm sorry, Cedes."

 

Kurt said, trying his best to smile and failing.

 

"I really am. I just can't talk about it. It has to do with that…you know, friend of mine…going through a tough time."

 

Mercedes eyed him carefully.

 

"And you're sure he's not hurting you?"

 

Kurt looked back in slight shock.

 

"No! No way. He just…needs my help."

 

Mercedes wasn't satisfied.

 

"OK. I'll leave it alone…for now."

 

And with that, she smiled devilishly.

 

Kurt loved this side of her and gratefully smiled back.

 

"Of course, Cedes," Kurt began with a false snooty expression, "you haven't said anything about my new Dolce and Gobbana shirt."

 

Dave and Kurt were in Dave's attic bedroom. Dave was surprised when Kurt said he needed to come over and talk right away. Never one to disappoint Kurt any more than he had to, he quickly agreed.

So, Kurt lugged his big bookbag into Dave's bedroom and dropped it on the bed.

 

The bookbag bounced with an unusual heaviness.

 

"What is this?"

 

Dave asked, bending down to look in the bag. But Kurt slapped his hand away.

 

"That's mine."

 

Kurt said. Dave smiled a little.

 

"OK."

 

Kurt sat on the bed, opening up the main pocket. Reaching inside, he pulled out the 1984 and 1985 yearbooks, and the two photographs Dave gave him. Dave furrowed his eyebrows a little, sitting on the other side of the bookbag.

 

Kurt opened both yearbooks, spilling his slender, white fingers along the pages with a speed that impressed Dave. Once Kurt found what he was looking for in one yearbook, he set it beside them and reached for the other, doing the same. Then, he grabbed the photographs Dave gave him. Smiling, he looked up at Dave.

 

"Jack Hampton."

 

Dave furrowed his eyebrows even further. He looked at the photos. Suddenly, he looked up at Kurt.

 

"You did this?"

 

Dave asked, not quite knowing how to feel.

 

"You did this research to find out who my dad's… friend was?"

Kurt's smile faltered a little.

 

"Well, yeah. It seemed like the obvious thing to do."

 

Dave frowned, looking at the yearbooks and photographs.

 

He had reached the same conclusion Kurt had – the cute boy in the photographs was none other than a very jock looking Jack Hampton.

 

Dave stood up and walked towards the window. Kurt, smile now completely gone, watched nervously. He didn't think Dave would react this hesitantly.

 

"Dave?"

 

No response.

 

"Dave? What's wrong?"

 

Again, there was a tense pause before Dave replied.

 

"I didn't ask you to do this."

 

Kurt watched him momentarily before getting up, walking towards Dave. He stopped about three steps behind Dave. Although the threat of violence was no longer there, Kurt was uneasy about Dave's reaction.

 

"I'm sorry, Dave. I was trying to help."

 

Silence.

 

Kurt stood there, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Dave was motionless, staring out the window. The early evening sun shone through the blue curtains, but Dave's face was away from Kurt. The silence was deafening.

"We know his name-"

 

"He was a jock?"

 

Dave asked.

 

"I guess so."

 

Slowly, Dave turned around, ignored Kurt, and returned to the photographs. Waves of tension rolled off Dave and Kurt instantly regretted doing this research.

 

But, there were simply too many unanswered questions about these photographs and mysteries need to be solved.

"Should I go?"

 

Kurt tenuously asked.

"No."

 

Dave responded, sighing.

 

"I just…"

"

 

Just what?"

Dave now faced Kurt for the first time in several minutes. He was sad.

 

"Kurt."

 

Kurt took a step closer.

 

"Yeah?"

"I wish I'd never found those photographs." Dave said, pointing at the 1980s smiling boys.

Kurt sighed.

 

He watched Dave look at the photographs. The contrast between the boys in the photo and Dave's frown was too poignant to ignore. Slowly, Dave reached down and grabbed the photographs. Kurt watched as Dave studied them over and over. Gradually, he saw the anger in Dave's eyes.

"Don't Dave."

 

Dave suddenly looked up, as if he forgot Kurt was there.

 

"What?"

 

Dave asked.

He took a step closer to Dave.

 

"Don't destroy them."

 

Dave was angry, but Kurt held his ground.

 

"And why not? Why not rip them apart?"

 

Kurt took yet another step towards Dave. Now, just a foot away, Kurt could see Dave's shoulders rising up and down with his angry breaths.

 

"Because…"

 

Kurt faltered.

 

He really wasn't quite sure what to say.

 

"Because they're a part of your dad's past that should've come to light a long time ago."

 

"Oh? And how would you know, sensei?"

 

Dave sarcastically asked.

 

Kurt warningly looked at Dave.

 

Whenever Dave got angry at Kurt, Kurt learned early to firmly establish what behavior was allowed and wasn't. Dave got the message.

 

"S-sorry."

Daringly, Kurt slowly reached for the photos.

 

Dave stared at Kurt as if he'd been betrayed. When Kurt's fingers touched the photos, Dave tightened his grip. Kurt looked up and was surprised to see such sadness in Dave's eyes.

 

"It's OK."

 

of the moment gave way and Dave gestured for Kurt to sit down. Smiling, Kurt complied. Dave sat down beside him.

"What if your dad is gay?"

 

Kurt suddenly asked.

"Kurt,"

 

Dave began, with hardly a hesitation, "I can't even deal with that about me, very well right now. I can't handle it at all if Dad is…."

 

Kurt nodded.

 

Kurt nodded. Learning to accept yourself is a process.

 

Kurt couldn't help but have progressed to that point before Dave. Then, an idea struck Kurt. He immediately sat up.

 

"Then…"

 

Kurt started, waiting for Dave to look him in the eye. When he finally did, Kurt continued.

 

"Leave it to me."

 

"Leave what to you?"

 

Dave asked.

Kurt placed his hand over the pocket that held the two photographs.

 

"Let me research this some more."

 

Dave sighed, looked away, completely frustrated.

 

"Kurt, I don't-"

"Look. We know his name. We know he went to McKinley with your dad. We know they had….a close friendship."

 

Kurt waited until Dave returned his gaze.

 

"But that's it. I promise you that whatever I find, I will only tell you."

 

Dave wanted to look away again, but didn't. Kurt's open, honest, even eager face was too cute to ignore. Dave loved the way the early evening sunlight danced in Kurt's blue eyes. Kurt, suddenly self-conscious, smiled apologetically for some reason. Then, reality reasserted itself.

"Kurt…"

 

Dave began, but faltered. He didn't want answers, but knew they were important. He didn't want his dad to be gay, but he didn't want it either.

 

But secrecy and even answers were promised by this dazzling boy in front of him and, well, he just couldn't say no.

 

"Alright, Kurt."

 

Kurt did a little happy dance on the side of Dave's bed. Clasping his hands together, the bright Kurt Hummel smile lit the room. Dave watched, slightly bouncing up and down with Kurt's dance.

 

"But…"

 

Kurt came to a stop, in anticipation.

 

"Whatever is found out, only tell me. We will approach dad, Deal?"

 

Kurt's smile faltered a little.

"Y-you want me and you to confront your dad with my results?"

 

"Yes."

 

Dave replied, quickly.

 

"Otherwise, no deal."

 

Kurt hesitated.

 

He wasn't sure he should be involved with another family's potential crisis.

 

However, this situation involved sexuality, a secret past, a secret potentially gay relationship, and hurt feelings that stretched for decades.

 

Kurt knew there was strength in numbers when it came to acceptance. And love. He knew what he had to say, what he couldn't avoid saying.

 

"Deal"

 

Kurt said, a little breathlessly.

Dave smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) 
> 
> Chapter 7 shall be posted soon :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I introduce Burt Hummel here. Remember he wasn't such a nice guy in his past? Remember that when you read this...  
> OK WE ARE BACK IN 1984. HOPE YOU LIKE THIS?  
> Enjoy everybody! I DON'T OWN GLEE

Chapter 7

Lima,Ohio – 1984:

Paul Karofsky was walking down the halls of McKinley High School, heading towards his second period world history class. He juggled his books in one hand, and a half inch calculator in the other. This was 1984, after all, and that was the smallest calculator available.

Wearing his Cure shirt and Jordache jeans, he quietly and briskly walked down the halls. Not wanting to draw too much attention to himself because of the relentless bullies, he often kept to himself. It angered and frustrated (and saddened) him that he didn't have many friends, but he had important things in his life – his parents, photography, The Cure, even his fashion sense. He even felt proud of himself – he just had no one to enjoy it with.

 

But there was also something in his hand. He had the Diana Ross album that Jack Hampton lent him. He burrowed his eyebrows.

There was something about that kid. Paul felt comfortable around him and liked talking to him. Jack went out of his way to help him get by his bullies. He drove him home. He introduced him to Diana Ross. He made him smile. In fact, Paul was smiling, as he rounded the hall, just one doorway from his next class

 

And that's when he saw him. Jack Hampton was dressed in a simple red t-shirt and Calvin Klein jeans. As they walked, the boys saw each other and smiled. They approached, mesmerized by each other. Neither boy could figure out what was going on, but neither cared. They soon passed each other, Jack rounding the hall out of sight.

Suddenly, Paul remembered the album in his hand. He meant to return it to Jack, but totally forgot. Paul approached the door to his next class, tucking the album by his side. He'd find a way to give it back to him. That's when it dawned on him that Jack probably saw the album in his possession – and he didn't care.

Paul smiled.

 

The school day was over. Paul closed his locker door, a little sadly. He placed the Diana Ross album on the top shelf. He didn't see the interesting and amusing Jack Hampton the rest of the day. But he didn't want to take it home – he was afraid he'd leave it there. He had scooped up his books for homework later and turned towards the social studies room – it was time for the photography club meeting.

 

The photography club met two times a week, after school. He loved photography and was excited about its possibilities. He walked down the hall, passing by an empty room that would eventually be the new computer sciences room. Paul had no idea how a computer worked and guessed that the class would fail, due to lack of interest. He couldn't have been more wrong.

As he rounded the corner, two jocks were coming towards him. Upon seeing Paul, evil smiles suddenly flashed on their faces. Paul did his best to ignore them. He tried so hard that he didn't even see Jack behind them, but much further down the hall. As Paul approached the bullies, one of them reached out and threw him against the wall!

 

"Geeeeeeek!"

 

Then, the predicable, horrific laughter echoed in the hall. The bullies laughed all the way down the hall as a stunned Paul just stood there, panting and collecting his wits. Jack eventually sighed, turning away.

 

Paul entered the photography club room. Several students were already there, but the teacher hadn't arrived yet. Slowly, Paul set his stuff down on a front row desk, furthest away from the door. Fresh air poured in through an open window. A car passed with its radio turned up, blaring some heavy metal song that Paul couldn't recognize. He didn't try. He hated heavy metal. It all seemed the same.

Paul slumped in the chair, immediately pained by a fresh bruise. He groaned as he realized he had a fresh bruise from the wall slam. He tried to reach it with his hand, but it was just out of his reach.

 

"Want me to look at it?"

 

Paul whirled around and was completely surprised to see Jack standing a few feet away.

"Jack!" Paul exclaimed with a wide smile. "What are you doing here?"

But Jack wasn't smiling.

 

"Want me to look at it?" Jack repeated.

 

Paul's smile gradually faded.

 

"Naaah. It's OK." He immediately started perusing his backpack for whatever could distract him for the moment.

 

Jack took a moment to study Paul, completely disliking the situation. Then, he strolled up beside him and sat down, flopping his backpack on the desk.

"What are you doing here?" Paul asked again. "This is the photography club."

"I know." Jack answered. Then, he feigned offense. "What? I know how to use a Polaroid!"

 

Paul laughed. He found he loved it when Jack could make him laugh. Little did he know that he would laugh a lot – most of it caused by Jack.

 

"We use cameras a little more sophisticated than Polaroids, you dummy!" Paul exclaimed, realizing he was smiling for the only the second time that day.

The boys simply smiled at each other.

 

Easy company can go a long way towards confidence and both boys were happy. Or happier.

Soon, the teacher arrived. The club meeting was called to attention. The teacher droned on about the latest project – a nature setting. The project was to take a series of pictures of nature and make them into a collage. A nature collage, Paul thought with a shake of his head. How simple.

Paul was furiously writing down notes while Jack just watched him.

"Can we have partners?" somebody asked. All heads turned to see Burt Hummel had asked the question. Neither boy knew him very well, but knew if he could be mean, he would.

"Yes." The teacher responded.

 

Paul turned around, looking at Burt. Burt looked back at him and, with a cruel smile on his face, mouthed the words 'not you!'. Paul rolled his eyes and turned around. When he faced front, he noticed Jack was staring at him.

"We… could be…." Paul began, and stopped. Jack smiled.

"Well, that depends." Jack replied.

"On what?"

 

Jack leaned in, a little conspiratorially. "On whether you can handle my awesome Polaroid skills!"

 

Paul was happy. This was the first time a photography club session was honestly fun. He and Jack kept exchanging little, boyish looks. Sometimes, one would laugh at something weird the teacher would say, look at the other, and try to keep the laughter to themselves. If others noticed in the club, they didn't say anything. Paul found he couldn't wait to work with Jack.

When the session ended, both boys were packing up their stuff. Photo albums were being shoved into book bags and expensive-looking cameras were being put back on shelves. Except for Paul. Paul had his own camera. Jack was curious.

"So…." Jack started.

Paul looked at him expectantly.

 

"You have your own camera?"

 

"Yup."

 

Paul said proudly. "It's a brand new kind of camera called a 35 mm camera, with telephoto lens. It takes the best pictures available."

Jack smiled. "It must've cost a fortune."

From the back of the room, Burt Hummel overheard this and smirked.

But Paul sighed, looking at the Minolta. "Yes, it did. I saved up half a year allowance and my grandparents pitched in for the rest."

 

He admired his camera for a second before adding, "she's my baby."

"Gag me." Jack muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing!"

 

Paul eyed Jack suspiciously. Jack simply smiled, feigning innocence. There was no way the boys could stop smiling then.

Once they were ready to go, they were the last ones to leave the classroom. They strolled, side-by-side, towards the student parking lot. Nobody was in the halls at this time of day. Opening the doors, they emerged into the late afternoon parking lot. Only a handful of cars remained. But Jack's truck was nowhere in sight.

"Where's your truck?" Paul asked.

Jack's smile faded.

 

"Ahhh, it's got a bad brake line. It's at the shop."

"Oh." Paul said, walking very slowly with Jack in tow. An idea hit him. "Hey! Want me to drive you home?"

Jack's smile lit up the dim parking lot. "Sure! Thanks!"

Then, a thought struck Paul. "Hey! I've got your Diana Ross album in my locker. Let me go-"

"Keep it."

Paul was stunned. "R-really?"

Jack nodded, smiling that golden boy, ornery

 

"But. . .you l-like Diana Ross."

"Shhhhh!"

 

Jack said, stepping closer to Paul with a finger over his own mouth.

"Not so loud! I have a reputation to protect, you know."

 

Paul laughed out loud at this cute, strange, silly boy. He was so comfortable! Paul wasn't used to this kind of comfort level, but didn't care.

"Well… thank you." Paul said, shyly.

"It's nuthin'."

Their stroll soon turned into a trot as they headed for Paul's white Ford Escort. Paul even opened the door for Jack, only to be rewarded by an uncomfortable giggle. Jack got in and shut his own door. Paul ran around the car and got in the driver's seat.

 

"Maybe this time, Madonna won't be on the radio when I turn it on!"

That got the biggest laugh Paul had ever heard. Paul soon joined in the laughter. They were so happy!

 

The drive was enjoyable. John Cougar Mellencamp's "Jack and Diane" came on the radio. Paul and Jack were obnoxiously singing the song, with the windows rolled down and the breeze chopping their hair. On the second verse, Jack loudly changed the lyrics to "Jack and Paul." He intentionally went up an octave, blasting a falsetto – "PauuuuuUUUUL!"

 

Jack was rewarded with one of the loudest, most cheerful laughs he'd ever heard. He loved making Paul laugh. They were driving erratically in the early evening and didn't care. A couple of times, Paul had to make sure he was on the right side of the road, which brought out more laughter. They even had to turn around a few times because Jack forgot to give turning directions. Or, at least, that's what he told Paul.

 

Finally, they arrived at the Hampton's home. The house was a simple, country home with white aluminum siding, and no front porch. The driveway was stone and was impossible to drive on very well. The laughter in the car came to a screeching halt upon arrival.

Standing in the garage were Jack's parents.

 

They were unloading groceries when they heard Paul's Ford Escort pull up. Distracted by the noise, they turned around and stared at the new arrivals.

A chill went through Paul's body.

 

He made eye contact with the Hamptons in very unceremonious fashion. The unknown chill resonated and even froze Paul to his spot. Tearing his eyes away, he turned to Jack. Jack was looking down at his hands, anticipating leaving the car. Finally, Jack reached for his backpack, quietly thanked Paul for the ride home, and left.

 

Paul watched this young, silly, innocent boy walk with his head unceremoniously down towards his parent's garage, presumably to help with the groceries. Jack's parents didn't move or tear their own eyes away from Paul. Quickly, suddenly nervously, Paul put the car in reverse and left.

Paul's chills didn't go away until he was at least a mile away from Jack's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugggh Jack's parents. :( 
> 
> I just recently posted my last chapter about them. And this was just the BEGINNING. :( 
> 
> If you wanna check out what I mean I posted my chapter 41 on Fanfiction because I wont spoil it herem. Please check it out and leave me some love. :) I'd SO appreciate it. Thank you! :)
> 
> I'll post chapter 8 when i can. :)
> 
> Have a nice day!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone, :) 
> 
> We are back with Dave, Kurt and Paul. I hope you guy's like this. :)
> 
> I recently posted my chapter 41 on Fanfiction if you all wanna check it out. :) Thank you. Its 41 chapters now. I'm soooo proud of this story and looking back and reposting it all on here is making me emotional! Lol! :) 
> 
> Its grown SO much. I'm SO happy with all the love amd support its gotten on there. :) 
> 
> Thank you all again. Thanks for the Kudos and bookmark too! :D
> 
> Ok with that I give you this... Enjoy!

Chapter 8

 

"Oh, that is just bull."

 

Kurt said as he rolled his eyes. He was sitting on the edge of Dave's bed, trying to make sense of David Karofsky.

 

Dave was standing by his desk, looking out the window. Both boys were supposedly studying, but they were quickly bored by algebra and world history. Instead, Dave took the opportunity to approach Kurt about sexuality.

 

"It's true!" Dave exclaimed, without turning around.

 

He casually stroked his light blue curtains, sunlight escaping into the room as he stroked. He let go and sunlight went back to hiding.

 

"No it's not."

 

Kurt said distractedly. Finally, Dave turned around and took a step towards Kurt.

 

"Look, you don't know what it's like."

 

Dave said. Kurt finally looked up at Dave, a slightly hostile look in his eyes. "Oh, I wouldn't?" Kurt challenged.

 

"Gee, I know what it's like to have to be gay and on the Cheerios!"

 

"And the locker room?"

 

Dave quietly asked, suddenly afraid of disappointing Kurt to look him in the eye. Dave hated it when he was honest with Kurt. He always seemed to disappoint him. Kurt sighed.

 

"OK, there is that."

 

Dave leaned back a little. "But, understanding and acceptance can happen by serving as a role model."

 

"A role model?"

 

Dave asked.

 

"Yes, a role model."

 

Kurt got up and took a step towards Dave. Kurt casually flipped a loose strand of hair away from his left eye and took yet another step towards Dave. Dave watched all of this, waiting for clarification.

 

"Look,"

 

Kurt patiently began, "playing on team sports and being gay proves that it can be done. If you come out, then you have to be a role model in the locker room. Behave yourself. Don't look at anyone when you shower. Just do your thing, do it quickly, and leave."

 

Kurt pause, letting his words sink in. Dave looked away, thinking it over.

 

"If you prove," Kurt said, "that you can be gay and in the boys locker room after a football game, others will see it too. They won't be afraid that you're 'scoping them out.'" Dave shook his head.

 

"It's not that simple, Kurt." Kurt hesitated and then strode backwards to the bed, sitting down.

 

"Why not?"

 

Kurt whispered.

 

Looking up at Dave from this angle, it was hard to believe that this behemoth of a teenager once terrified him.

 

Dave was so fragile in Kurt's mind. And slowly becoming a good friend.

 

"Well…"

 

Dave struggled to answer. He fidgeted with his thumbnail, thinking it over. Kurt patiently waited. "Some of these guys are…mean." Dave answered.

 

"Mean? How?"

 

Dave finally looked back at him. He had a sad expression on his face. "Homophobia on team sports isn't only in the locker room."

 

Kurt blinked. He quickly tried to imagine what Dave was getting at, but couldn't come up with a result. So, he looked back to Dave. Dave sighed.

 

"Gaybashers could try to take out my knee…"

 

Dave quietly said.

 

"Or worse."

 

Kurt stood up and walked right up to Dave. They looked at each other with soft compassion in their eyes. Slowly, Kurt reached for Dave's arm and held it, by his wrist.

 

Kurt's soft hands contrasted Dave's meaty forearm. It was a wonderful contrast. Dave loved it when Kurt got this way. And, of course, Kurt knew this.

 

"You can't control that, Dave."

 

Kurt gently began.

 

"All you're responsible for is yourself. And hiding is no way to live."

 

"And what if-"

 

"No, Dave."

 

Kurt said with authority. "Just you. Don't let homophobic jerks stand in the way of your happiness."

 

He thought these words over and over. He so badly wanted to be free of the fear and hate, but he knew he wasn't ready. Instead, Dave just nodded. He knew Kurt was right, but you have to come out to teammates when you're ready. This kind of secret can be explosive or be nothing at all. But Dave knew better.

 

"Thank you, Kurt."

 

Dave quietly said. Kurt still held Dave's wrist, secretly loving how thick it was.

 

Dave smiled. Kurt's eyes flickered for just a second until he finally smiled back. Eyes roamed each other's faces in the warm bedroom. The boys were simply smiling at each other with such simplicity and passion in their hearts. They truly were grateful for each other.

 

"You're welcome, Dave."

 

Kurt responded just as quietly.

 

He slowly let go of Dave's hand, but the boys continued to stare at one another, oblivious to the outside world.

 

"Well," Dave began, now with a boyish smile, "I'm grateful you're helping me. I just wish there was something I could do for you."

 

"Oh," Kurt said, tilting his head a little, "there will be."

 

Kurt turned and slowly walked back towards the bed, gracefully sitting down. He pulled Dave's laptop and turned it on.

 

Dave casually walked towards the head of the bed and sat down.

 

The air conditioner occasionally blew the curtains open and closed, putting harsh sunlight throughout the room haphazardly. Dave loved it when the sunlight hit Kurt. It made him radiate.

 

"I just like that you're being bluntly honest with me."

 

Kurt said as he opened up an internet connection.

 

"Otherwise, we wouldn't be helping each other at all."

 

"Yeah, that's true."

 

Dave admitted. He dipped his head a little as he gazed at Kurt.

 

"I don't think I'd be where I am today if it wasn't for you."

 

"Flattery will get you everywhere." Kurt said distractedly.

 

But Dave leaned forward intently.

 

"I mean it, Kurt."

 

Kurt finally looked up into Dave's open and honest eyes. A shy smile adorned Kurt's perfect face as he looked back down at the screen.

 

"Hey, it's not like I can do a good impression of Eve Heron or anything."

 

Dave said.

 

"It's Eve Harrington."

 

Suddenly, Kurt sat up. An idea popped into his head.

 

"Let's watch the movie!"

 

"What movie?" Dave asked.

 

"'All About Eve'", Kurt began, "it's required viewing if you're gay."

 

Dave groaned.

 

"Now, don't be like that."

 

Kurt began scoldingly.

 

"It's a good movie. And Bette Davis is amazing. Anne Baxter too."

 

"Do we have to?"

 

Dave whined.

 

"Yes."

 

Kurt answered, mocking Dave's tone. He opened up his Netflix account and searched for the movie.

 

"Well, while you're doing that, I'm getting something to drink. You want anything?"

 

"A Diet Co-"

 

"On the way!"

 

Dave boyishly leaped off the bed, eager to provide something, anything for this amazing boy on his bed. Whenever Dave could do something for Kurt, he was on it.

 

Dave was bored. Well, not exactly. He was tolerating the movie as best he could, but it just wasn't his cup of tea. He enjoyed watching how different movies were back in the 1950s, but just wasn't into all the intrigue and manipulation going on. He stifled a yawn.

 

Meanwhile, Kurt was having the time of his life. Dave watched Kurt more than the movie. Kurt would occasionally tilt his head, listening to the characters spew their hate and jealousy on screen. Once, Kurt even giggled.

 

It made Dave watch him more and more, loving the little ways Kurt amused and entertained him. Dave laughed out loud after Kurt performed.

 

Kurt took a gulp of his iced tea, wiggled like he was approaching the staircase, held up his glass, and said "fasten your seatbelts. It's going to be a bumpy night" with as much melodrama as he could muster.

 

Dave rolled around on the bed in laughter, much to Kurt's chagrin.

 

"Just watch the movie, hamhock."

 

Kurt ordered.

 

"Yes sir."

 

Dave said disappointedly. . When "The End" appeared on the screen, Kurt clapped. Dave loved watching Kurt's joy. Kurt then turned to Dave.

 

"See? Wasn't that good?"

 

Kurt asked excitedly.

 

"Yeah, it was good."

 

Dave answered, feigning interest. Kurt, of course, saw right through it.

 

"Oh, come on!"

 

Kurt said with a twinkle in his eye.

 

"When she said 'I won't play tonight. I couldn't, not possibly. I couldn't go on', couldn't you just see Santana saying such crap?!"

 

Kurt's smile broadened.

 

"Yeah."

 

Dave said simply. Kurt sighed and stood up, facing Dave.

 

"You're hopeless."

 

Kurt said. "Yup."

 

"You're stubborn."

 

"Yup."

 

"You're…"

 

"Yup."

 

Kurt, annoyed at first, smiled back at Dave. Dave secretly wished they could watch the movie again.

 

Kurt was in his element. The kitchen at Dave's house was immaculate and Kurt was striding back and forth, between the island prep station and the various countertops. Dave seated at the kitchen table, watched Kurt in awe.

 

Kurt was passionate about cooking and Dave was learning as he watched. But, in reality, Dave wasn't paying too much attention. He just watched Kurt's slender hands as he worked. Dave was hypnotized. Finally, their dinner was ready – clam and garlic sauce pasta, with saffron infused bread.

 

Dave's mouth was watering as the steamy pasta dish was set in front of him. Eyes wide and stunned mouth open, he gaped at Kurt. Kurt acknowledged him with a little smile.

 

"Let's eat."

 

Kurt said, sitting down with a pleased smile.

 

"OK!"

 

Dave said eagerly. Dave didn't even try to hide his excitement looking at the savory food. He ate three mouthfuls of pasta before finally looking back at Kurt. Kurt looked at him, expectantly.

 

"Oh!"

 

Dave said. "Sorry. I was eaing a mouful of dis delishis foo."

 

Kurt smiled knowingly.

 

"Chew and swallow, Dave."

 

Dave did as he was told, smiling at Kurt sideways as he did so.

 

"Sorry."

 

Dave said sheepishly.

 

"I was eating a mouthful of this delicious food and I didn't want to stop. But you're right, Kurt. I should complement the chef."

 

Dave intentionally set his fork down on his plate and eyed Kurt.

 

"Thank you Kurt. This is awesome!"

 

Kurt beamed.

 

"Why thank you Dave. It's always nice to please a man." Both boys froze.

 

"Uh, I mean…"

 

Dave smiled and let him off the hook.

 

"It's OK. I get it. And, thank you again. It's delicious!"

 

Kurt, relieved, began eating his own half-size portion of pasta. Dave was curious.

 

"You're not eating very much Kurt."

 

"I know. I don't have to eat very much. Never have. I'm not that big of a guy and you're…"

 

Again, the boys froze. But this time, Dave turned his head away, forcing Kurt to rebound what was said. Kurt's mind was a flurry of words to be said, while Dave looked away, grinning.

 

"Oh, Dave!" Kurt began apologetically, "I mean…" Kurt struggled, trying to find the right words.

 

Finally, Dave let him off the hook. Turning, he faced Kurt with a boyish grin on his face. Kurt half-glared at him.

 

"Oh, you!"

 

Dave smiled.

 

Paul rolled down the window of his car. He rarely let himself enjoy the breeze as he drove home from his law office. The cool breeze tousled his hair a little as he gently increased his speed. Even the hairs in his thick goatee flew around in the breeze. He made a left turn onto his street.

 

As he turned, his eyes drifted to the radio, which was turned off. He smirked. A memory flashed to his brain. He remembered a certain joy in the surprise of what song would come on the radio. Jack used to love doing this when they were in the car together. Frowning, Paul returned his gaze to the road.

 

He rolled up his window, too. He arrived at his home, spotting a black Navigator in his driveway. Someone was visiting Dave. That didn't happen very often. Paul parked his car beside the Navigator and emerged from his car.

 

Briefcase in one hand and suit coat in the other, he fished for his keys and unintentionally entered the house quietly. He heard noises from the kitchen. Setting down his briefcase, coat, and keys, he casually strolled towards the kitchen. He heard voices.

 

Laughter. Voices again. Louder laughter. Curious, Paul slowly and quietly walked to the kitchen. He wasn't surprised Kurt Hummel was in his house.

 

He wasn't surprised they were working. But, he was surprised that they were working so closely together, smiling and laughing. From his spot in the hallway, Paul watched the boys doing dishes, talking about non-sensical things, and even making references to Eve Harrington. Paul smiled.

 

He loved watching his son be so happy. He had reason to be worried lately. But this night, Paul gazed at how close and companionable Dave and Kurt were to each other. Once, Paul watched Dave pinch Kurt in the ribs and run off.

 

He hadn't heard his son giggle in a long time. Kurt, annoyed, yelled at Dave and then half-smiled. This was all too familiar to Paul. Gradually, Paul's joy fainted away. Paul had this kind of joy with another boy once. Just once. And he knew when.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 will be posted soon. :-)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello all! Thanks for sticking with this story! Here, we're back to 1984 with all its AMAZING technology - like cassette tapes and 35 mm cameras! LOL! Anyway, we see Jack and Paul building their relationship. Where will it go...? And, thank GOD for Google Translate, with the Russian translations.
> 
>  
> 
> I DON'T OWN GLEE.
> 
> ENJOY! Love comments, please! Thank please be Kind.

Chapter 9

 

**Lima, Ohio-1984:**

 

"That's why we don't use Polaroid's!"

 

The boys were having an argument. Jack was convinced he could take good pictures with his 1984 Polaroid camera just as good as Paul's fancy-schmancy new 35 mm camera.

"Paul," he began patiently, "look at this image. It's good!"

 

Paul played along, a smirk on his face. He took a look at the image and grimaced.

 

"Are you kidding me?!"

 

Paul exclaimed.

 

"Look at the smears at the top! You don't get that with a 35 mm camera."

Jack looked at the image, cocking his head a little to the left and then to the right.

"That was just bad lighting."

 

Jack announced. Paul laughed.

"If you say so."

 

Paul said, a smirk on his face.

There was no getting around it – Paul was convinced his camera was the best on the market and he wasn't wrong. Shifting away from Jack, Paul perused his photo albums, reviewing his work. Jack peeked over his shoulder.

 

"Where were those taken?"

 

Jack asked. Paul turned and Jack's face was just inches away from his shoulder, inches away from him. Paul loved these close moments with Jack. He just felt comfortable.

 

"Teddy Bear Park."

 

Paul responded.

 

"It was just a few weeks ago."

 

"Really?"

 

Jack asked, shifting his full attention to the album.

 

"They're really good."

Paul beamed.

 

"You think so?"

 

he asked, enthusiastically.

"Yeah. You've got a good eye, as photography lingo goes."

 

Paul laughed, turning once again to Jack. Paul loved the way Jack's ornery personality shone through even when it wasn't necessary. In turn, Jack loved making this interesting, geeky boy laugh. They just stared at each other for a moment before returning their attention to the photo album.

 

They spent the next hour reviewing all the landscapes, floralscapes, and even stillifes in Paul's album. Once in a while, a hand would accidentally brush on a thigh or shoulder, but it was all innocent. Jack loved Paul's eye for photography and seemed to grow interested in it himself.

When they were done reviewing the photoalbum, conversation shifted to school.

 

"How are the bullies treating you?"

 

Jack asked, slightly concerned.

Paul thought a moment, setting his photoalbum back on his desk.

 

"OK, I guess."

 

"You guess?"

 

Jack asked.

 

"Well,"

 

Paul began, "it's not like I've been messed with that bad."

For the first time in quite a while, Jack frowned.

 

"Well, I'll make sure they don't mess with you when I join the football team."

Immediately, Paul was alarmed.

 

"What?!"

 

Jack was suddenly alarmed as well.

 

"Well, yeah. I like football. I'm joining the team."

Paul was horrified.

 

"Why?!"

 

"Paul, what's so bad about the football team?"

 

Paul marched right up to Jack, eyes flaring in anger and disappointment.

"You know who my bullies are, don't you?"

 

Paul whispered.

 

"Yeah, I know."

 

Jack responded, confidently.

 

"That's why I'm going to get them to back off you."

 

Paul's eyes narrowed for just a bit before responding.

 

"Don't become one of them."

 

And with that, Paul turned around and marched to the other end of the room. Jack immediately sensed Paul's concern.

 

"I could never bully you!" Jack exclaimed, slightly hurt. "Like I said, I'll get them to stop."

 

"Unless they get to you first, jock boy!"

 

The air in the room cooled. This was the first real argument between the boys and Jack was totally unprepared for it.

 

"I'm not going to give in."

 

Jack said, slowly approaching Paul from behind.

 

"I won't." Jack placed his hands gently on Paul's shoulders. Paul jumped at first, and then relaxed. Jack's hands stilled on top of Paul's shoulders in an attempt to calm his friend.

 

"You'll get pressured to do all kinds of things…"

 

Paul whispered.

 

But Jack had had enough. He slowly turned Paul, facing him.

 

"Absolutely not."

 

Jack said smugly. Jack's hands were still on Paul's shoulders, trying what he knew to calm him down. Jack was not a lightweight and wouldn't allow himself to be recruited by jock mentality. But Paul wasn't convinced.

 

"Jack, you don't know what you're saying."

 

"Yes I do."

 

Jack responded with even more resolute confidence.

 

"They won't hurt you."

 

Jack steeled his gaze into Paul, trying his best to convince him that he meant business. Paul was wary, looked down, and nodded. This time, Jack wasn't convinced. He moved his index finger under Paul's chin, raising his head so he could look him in the eye.

 

"I mean it."

 

Jack whispered. They stared into each other's eyes, Jack's finger still on Paul's chin. They conveyed so much emotion in that moment – fear, concern, worry, and passion.

Paul nodded. And smiled.

 

After the argument was over, the boys went on to do teenage boy stuff together – Atari video games (but only for a little while – Paul had no patience for them), homework, listening to cassette tapes of popular music, etc. Sprinkled throughout was a lot of laughter and joy.

 

You couldn't find a better matched pair of friends.

Suddenly, Paul said something that Jack didn't understand.

 

"What?"

 

Jack asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was saying 'you're incredibly silly' in Russian."

 

Paul responded.

Jack's eyes widened.

 

"You speak Russian?"

 

"Well,"

 

Paul responded, looking shyly away, "a little. I can speak many words, thanks to my grandma. I could probably hold a basic conversation."

"Say something else in Russian!"

 

Jack eagerly asked.

 

"Oh, I don't know what to say!"

 

Paul whined.

"Oh, come on. Please?"

 

"What should I say?"

 

"I don't know. Just say something."

Paul considered it for a moment. And then, the words came out.

"вы страшная фотограф"

 

Jack looked bewildered for a second.

 

"What does that mean?"

 

Paul looked coyly away before responding.

 

"Maybe I shouldn't tell you."

 

"C'mon brat. Tell me!"

 

"No."

 

"No?"

 

"No."

 

Jack, frustrated, tackled Paul to the floor, wrestling him. Paul, giggling, tried to fight back. But Jack knew some wrestling moves and soon had Paul pinned to the floor.

 

"Give up!"

 

Jack screamed.

 

"Never!"

 

Paul screamed back. Jack kept holding him down, while Paul giggled. Jack's grip was firm and Paul wasn't going anywhere. However, the hold was too good – Paul's back was starting to hurt.

"OK, OK!"

 

Paul said. But Jack didn't move.

"Well?!"

 

Paul waited for just a second before saying, "In Russian, it means. . ."

"I'm waiiiiiitinnnnnng."

 

Jack sing-songed to Paul.

Paul hesitated again before finally answering.

 

"You're a horrible photographer!"

 

Jack sat up in an instant.

 

"What?!"

 

Jack screamed. Suddenly, Jack was tickling Paul. Screams of joy exploded out of the boys. Paul did his best to fend ofF Jack's amazingly fast fingers along his rib cage and neck. Paul writhed on the floor, trying his best to avoid the hysterically laughing Jack Hampton.

 

The boys didn't stop this until Jack noticed Paul was having trouble breathing. Suddenly, Jack stopped, smiling at Paul, loving how beautiful and fun this kid was.

Jack smiled. Paul smiled. Jack helped Paul up off the floor.

 

After the tickle fight, Jack strutted like a proud peacock across the bedroom floor. Triumphantly, he posed right beside the curtain, next to the bed.

 

"You can take my champion photo right here, Mr. DeMille."

 

Jack smugly said.

 

Paul snorted.

 

"Uh huh. I'll get right on that." And then, added quietly, "gag me."

 

"What?!"

 

Jack roared, a little smile on his face.

 

"Nothing!"

 

Paul smiling teasingly.

And there they were again – two boys smiling at each other. It was a truly playful evening and it wasn't even over. The boys collapsed on Paul's bed, exhausted from the physical exertion. Jack quickly turned on his side, propping his hand on his head for support.

 

"So, are you doing landscapes for the photography exhibition?"

 

Jack asked.

 

"I don't know."

 

Paul responded hesitantly. "I suppose."

 

"Well, why wouldn't you? Your photos are awesome."

Paul turned to Jack, loving the way his hair was tousled and cheeks rosy from horseplay. Jack in turn simply loved this boy.

 

"Well, thanks."

 

Neither boy said anything for a moment until Paul continued.

 

"I wanted to do a political statement, but the teacher wouldn't let me."

 

"What kind of political statement?"

 

Paul thought for a minute before responding.

 

"Civil rights."

 

Jack was silent, staring in wonder at this boy in front of him.

 

"Civil rights?" Jack asked.

 

"Well, yeah."

 

"From what angle?"

 

Paul was bewildered.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

Jack now hesitated, still with that little smirk on his face. "I think you should do gay rights or something." And with that, Jack got up off the bed, fiddling with his Sony Walkman. Paul just stared.

 

"Why?"

 

Paul asked.

Jack turned around, head still down, focused on the Walkman.

 

"Because."

 

"Because?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Jack responded quietly, "gay people like me have rights too."

Paul was stunned into silence. Tension seeped into their festive atmosphere, but Jack, as usual, chose to ignore it.

 

"Come on, Paul."

 

Jack suddenly said, "let's play Pitfall."

 

Jack turned towards the Atari video game machine and began to load Pitfall.

However, Paul hadn't moved.

 

His mind was a pinball machine of all kinds of words, thoughts, emotions. He didn't know what to do. But what alarmed him the most was that he wasn't as alarmed as he thought he should be.

 

"C'mon!" Jack said, annoyed.

 

He held out the other controller for Paul. Slowly, Paul slid off the bed and accepted the offered joystick.

The boys played Pitfall. Life was good.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: HEY EVERYONE! :)
> 
> FIRST OFF. I DON'T OWN GLEE.
> 
> THANK YOU TO EVERYONE READING THIS. :)
> 
> IT MEANS A LOT. :)
> 
> SPECIAL THANK YOU: UMBRELLA0326 :).
> 
> YOU ROCK. :)
> 
> OK ON TO THE STORY...
> 
> THIS IS A REALLY LONG CHAPTER. JUST SO YOU ALL KNOW THAT. ;)
> 
> WE ARE BACK WITH DAVE, PAUL AND KURT.
> 
> OK NOT GONNA GIVE TOO MUCH AWAY, SO I'M GONNA SHUT UP NOW. :)
> 
> AS ALWAYS IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS, LET ME KNOW :).  
> P
> 
> THANKS IN ADVANCE.
> 
> ENJOY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEE

Chapter 10

 

Ideas were forming in his head. Well, not exactly forming. They were more or less copied and being expanded. Kurt gave Dave a few questions to ask his dad about this mysterious boy in the photographs. Dave shook his head. He didn't like the idea of probing into his dad's past, but the photographs were just too tantalizing. And annoying. Dave didn't like how close his dad was with this strange boy and it wasn't sitting well with his closeted self.

 

So, Dave did what he did best – he thought about it. And thought about it. And thought about it. That's an introvert for you.

 

The next Sunday evening, school out of the way and football a memory from the previous night, Dave found his dad in the living room watching TV. He knew his dad was just 'watching' TV and not really absorbed in the material. TV is, after all, mostly brain-rot. Dave smirked at his little joke and then narrowed his brow, determined with this task at hand.

 

"Dad?"

 

Dave asked, entering the living room. Paul was seated in the recliner while Dave crossed the room, sitting on the couch.

 

"What's up, Dave?"

 

Paul asked, eyes not roaming away from the TV. Dave took a breath before he began talking.

 

"Could I talk to you for a minute?"

 

Paul paused. Rarely did Dave ask to speak with his Dad and, of course, Paul knew this. So, Paul performed his paternal duties.

 

"Sure. What's on your mind?"

 

Dave looked at his dad before he began. Paul looked serene, sipping from a glass of Coca-Cola and setting it down. In fact, Dave thought his dad never looked more relaxed, which was unusual given the nature of the most recent conversation he had with him.

 

"I wanted-"

 

"If this," Paul hastily interrupted, "is about the photographs, leave it alone."

 

Dave was momentarily stunned into silence.

 

"Dad, I just…." He didn't quite know how to continue. But he couldn't let Kurt down. Or himself, he supposed.

 

"Dave,"

 

Paul began with an air of authority and patience, "just. . .leave it alone. He was a friend. That's all."

 

But Dave was exasperated. "But that's just it!" Dave began just as annoyingly. "It wasn't just. . it, was it?"

 

Paul took the moment to turn the TV down, since he wasn't really watching. He set the remote on the coffee table, holding his head down. Momentarily, his thoughts drifted back to the (incredible, sexy, supportive, sexy, passionate, sexy, loving, sexy) boy from his past. He had to nip this in the bud.

 

"He's dead."

 

Dave deadpanned. He didn't expect this revelation and couldn't just sit on this information.

 

Dead?"

 

"Dead."

 

"How?"

 

The question was irresistible. Someone so important from the past has to have some kind of importance in the present, doesn't it? Dave reasoned this fact and pressed further.

 

"How, Dad?"

 

Now, it was Paul's turn to look downwards even further.

 

"That. . .doesn't matter."

 

Dave's brows couldn't have been furrowed lower. "Of course it does Dad! He was your. . .friend."

 

Paul finally took the time to look at his saddened, protective son.

 

"No. . " Paul said, "it doesn't."

 

"The hell it doesn't!" Dave roared. He would've stood up if Paul hadn't stood up first. Dave immediately stood up, blocking Paul's exit.

 

"Please. . ." Dave pleaded. Paul agonized over the look in his son's eyes. Dave looked at his dad with an uncomfortable, teenage immaturity that begged to be addressed. Paul just shook his head.

 

"Leave it," Paul said, suddenly saddened, "alone."

 

Dave stood his ground. "No."

 

The two men, sturdily built and strong, stared at each other. Ordinarily, this would've been a pissing contest. But, the two strong men just stared at each other, heartbreak tearing them apart inside. Paul watched his son plead with him, hating how passionate and vulnerable his son was.

 

Paul's brow furrowed.

 

"He loved football.. ." Paul said.

 

Dave blinked. This wasn't this statement he expected. So, Dave went with it, coaxing his dad to talk further. He motioned for Paul to sit down. Surprisingly, Paul did just that, as did Dave.

 

What position did he play?" Dave asked.

 

"Wide receiver."

 

Dave thought for a minute before he asked, "No wonder. He's so wiry. Did he like it that much?"

 

For the first time in so long, Paul smiled. "Oh, yes."

 

"He must've been a good sprinter."

 

"Oh, yes."

 

"Did he do the four, four in forty?"

 

"Oh yes."

 

Dave's eyes widened. He immediately thought that his dad knew more about football than he let on. Paul also recognized what he revealed, once he saw the hopeful look in Dave's eyes. Football jargon can be used for quite a few things in life and, of course, Dave knew that. And used that.

 

"So," Dave began, "you knew he was good?"

 

Paul didn't answer. Silence. Paul was suddenly angry.

 

"Dave," Paul began authoritatively, "I said leave it alone."

 

"But Dad-"

 

"LEAVE IT ALONE!"

 

Silence. Silence again. Stunned, Dave sat back. This wasn't going as planned. So, of course, Dave was angry. Very angry. Karofsky angry.

 

"Oh, I get it," Dave hatefully began, "I find a photograph of my dad hanging out real close with a guy and I'm not supposed to ask any questions. I understand, Dad. I'm just supposed to accept that my Dad had a faggy relation-"

 

"It was nothing like that!" Paul roaringly interrupted.

 

Silence could've been cut with a chainsaw. Dave didn't care. He was hurt. And confused. And, quite suddenly, he thought of Kurt. Kurt's soft skin. His soft. . .

 

"Dad," Dave began, "I love you."

 

Silence. An ugly, wonderful silence. Dave watched his dad out of the corner of his eye. He knew his dad was conflicted but didn't know how much until now. Kurt had a hunch this was the case and didn't want to believe him. But he did. Of course he did. Kurt was always right about these things. So, Dave decided to switch tactics. He just had to know. He had to know his dad. He just. . .had to know.

 

"Dad?" Dave whispered. Paul said nothing.

 

Dave looked down at the photograph, puzzled at the firm paper and text printing on the back. An idea formed in his head.

 

"Why does this photo have dates on the back?" Dave asked, "That was when it was printed, right?"

 

Dave looked up and saw how quietly devastated his dad was. Dave hated it. But, Paul finally nodded.

 

"That's right." Paul quietly confirmed.

 

"And," Dave carefully continued, "if that's the case, in those days, you took the film to get it developed and this was the date it was developed?"

 

Dave knew he was asking an obvious question, but this wasn't the goal of his interrogation. Again, Paul nodded.

 

"So. . ." Dave again carefully asked, "is this special paper or something?"

 

"It's just photography paper." Paul responded.

 

"Photography paper?" Dave stupidly asked.

 

Paul sighed. "Dave, this paper is still used, you know."

 

"I know." Dave responded. "I just didn't know this paper was used in the '80s."

 

"Of course it was." Paul said, "We had to print on something with substance."

 

Dave nodded, turning the photo over in his hand.

 

"Why are the edges curled?" Dave asked.

 

If Dave knew he was asking a loaded question, he wouldn't have asked. When Dave got no response he looked up at his dad. Paul's frown couldn't have been broader. Dave waited.

 

"35 mm cameras could only do so much." Paul responded. "Jack didn't. . ."

 

Dave watched his dad struggle, as if he was lost in a dream. But Dave decided to let patience win out here. He knew his dad needed to think. Paul glanced up at his son's hopeful eyes, knowing he wouldn't be left off the hook. His son was curious. Who wouldn't be?

 

"Jack always thought Polaroids took better photos." Paul said. And when he was finished, Paul chuckled. Then, he chuckled again. And then, very much to Dave's amazement, Paul fell into guffaws of laughter. Paul's laughter boomed throughout the room, making Dave smile.

 

"Jack always thought Polaroids took better photos!" Paul laughingly said. "I could never convince him otherwise!"

 

Dave smiled at his dad's sudden cheer.

 

"That's just not possible!" Dave said.

 

"I know!"

 

The two men just laughed together, sharing a happy, carefree time of joy and memories. Finally, when the laughter died down, Dave spoke.

 

"You'd think, after all the photographs you took as a kid, Dad, that'd he'd figure that out."

 

Paul's laughter quickly slid down and then disappeared. Soon, a frown filled his face.

 

"He never got that opportunity."

 

Dave's face frowned in confusion, begging for clarification. Paul steadied his face before dropping this bombshell.

 

"He's dead."

 

Dave's jaw dropped before he could stop it. In the shock of hearing the very blunt words from his father, he wasn't sure he heard this before or not. What did it matter? This strange boy in the photograph was dead and never returning to make his dad smile like he did all those years ago. It ached at Dave and reminded him of Kurt. If Kurt were to ever. . .

 

Dave shuddered, forcing himself to stop that thought altogether.

 

"So . ." Dave faltered. Where could he go from there? But before he could continue his thought, his dad interrupted.

 

"This is part," Paul sadly said, "of the reason why I didn't want to talk about him."

 

"About. . .Jack."

 

"Yeah."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Why?"

 

Dave looked at his dad, completely befuddled.

 

"Dad," Dave earnestly began, "this. . .boy and you, in the photo." Dave looked down at the photograph, studying it completely before raising his head back to his saddened father.

 

"You're so. . .happy."

 

Dave could've sworn his dad's face cracked, forcing back a tear. Dave tilted his head towards his dad in an attempt to see his father. His father, head so lowly bowed, made Dave scared.

 

"D-dad?" Dave hesitantly, fearfully asked. No response.

 

"Dad?" Dave asked, a little more forcefully.

 

Still, no response. Dave couldn't take the agony any longer.

 

"Please, Dad. . ." Dave begged.

 

Paul was a statue of pain and sadness. Neither man moved a muscle or said a word for a long time. Dave sighed yet kept his eyes on his father. Then, suddenly, Dave noticed little tufts of wiggle in his dad's shoulders. Confused, Dave leaned forward.

 

And then, it happened. Floodgates of sadness engulfed Paul and crushing tears poured out of his eyes! Instantly alarmed, Dave got up, crossed the room, and sat right beside his dad, protectively. He watched as his dad let go of the decades of loneliness and longing his heart, a haunting reminder of a past love. Dave, not quite knowing what to do, placed a gentle hand on his dad's shoulder.

 

That was a wrong move. Paul's head collapsed into his own hands, holding them up as tears and suffocating sobs exploded. Anguish smashed Paul's brain as his heart poured out all the years and years and years of suffering.

 

Dave, helpless, watched his own tears fall out of his eyes. His cautious hand, still on his dad's shoulder, remained where it was. He'd never been put in this position before and did what he thought he should – simply be a comforting presence. So he did just that.

 

And then, quite suddenly, Paul leaned back and turned towards his son. His eyes, puffy from tears, poured into his son's. Dave almost had to lean back at the agony he saw.

 

"He was my first. . ."

 

Dave watched his dad stop midsentence. He didn't hesitate to ask.

 

"First what, dad?"

 

Paul paused. His pleading eyes bored into Dave as if he was staring at his son's soul, and yet, at himself.

 

"My first love."

 

.

 

Sunshine. A glorious sunshine was blinding through the institutional windows of McKinley High School. Dave, of course, knew this was happening. He had to shield his eyes from the blinds once he entered the school. Everybody did. Occasionally, blindingly sunny days entered the halls of the school on days like these. This day was no exception.

 

Dave slowly, heavily walked through the gymnasium entrance. Completely lost in thought and moving very slowly that morning, he came to a complete halt, just below the scoreboard. He was supposed to meet with Kurt to discuss the current events in the Karofsky household. He quickly pulled out his cell phone, looked at the time, and immediately groaned. He was supposed to meet with Kurt nearly a half an hour before. Cursing to himself, Dave went in search of his friend. His special friend.

 

Kurt.

 

He supposed it would always be Kurt. It didn't take him long to get to him.

 

Dave soon found Kurt at his locker. Kurt, open locker in front of him, was absorbed in some kind of textbook. English, Dave supposed. It didn't matter. Dave needed his special friend. He needed to talk to him. He needed. . him.

 

"Kurt we need to-"

 

Before he could get another word out as he approached Kurt at his locker, he was cut off. Kurt didn't seem too pleased to see Dave standing a few inches away. This confused Dave for a moment until Kurt began to speak.

 

"Dave. What the hell? I thought we were meeting in the choir room a half an hour ago?!"

 

Even being yelled at, Dave loved how Kurt's fiery temper set off that heated flush in Kurt's face, the angry, leaning posture, the lithe hands clasped firmly around his notebook. Dave noted how Kurt's sparkling blue eyes darkened when he was angry and he had to fight off the urge to make Kurt angrier.

 

Dave shook his head minutely before he could continue. He had to get those teenage, primal thoughts out of his head before he could rationalize Kurt's anger. He couldn't help but love an angry Kurt Hummel. He had important business to discuss with Kurt. And, he was disturbed.

 

Kurt didn't stop his anger. "Well?!"

 

Dave just looked at Kurt a little dumbfounded. And then, it hit him – he WAS supposed to meet Kurt in the choir room that morning. Dave groaned.

 

"Oh, sorry Kurt," Dave apologetically began, dipping his head a little to the side, "I just. . .you wouldn't believe the night I had last night."

 

Kurt was suspicious. "What do you mean?"

 

Dave looked away. Here and there, students were milling about, doing high school student stuff – chatting, opening and loudly shutting lockers, eating doughnuts, scooping up textbooks, etc. Nobody seemed to notice the former bully was talking to his beautiful former victim. It was as if everybody forgot Karofsky existed. . .until Karofsky would reappear, which was rare.

 

Kurt. . ."

 

"Yes?" Kurt answered impatiently.

 

"Can we NOW to go to the choir room?"

 

"Oh, NOW you want-"

 

"Please?!"

 

Kurt noticed how agitated Dave seemed. Even in this state, Kurt loved Dave's pleading, boyish eyes inset with that massive, brutal body. He loved how soft Dave's features could be when Karofsky was gone. And, Kurt hoped, Karofsky was gone for good. So, Kurt did what he always did – he relented to kindness.

 

"Oh, alright."

 

The trek to the choir room didn't take long. Dave followed in Kurt's still slightly angry or annoyed wake, too consumed with the events from the previous night. The choir room was empty and Kurt took a seat in the front row. Dave noticed that the black piano had a tinge of purple on the edges and didn't know why. He suddenly didn't care. He sat down beside Kurt.

 

"OK," Dave carefully began, "last night, my dad dropped a bombshell."

 

"OK, what?" Kurt asked, brushing off some dust or hairs or something off his black pants. Dave watched the motion, as Kurt's hands languidly went back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. Dave snapped himself out of the reverie and back to the task at hand.

 

"Look," Dave began, "I'm not ready to think about-"

 

"Dave!" Kurt angrily interrupted, "What happened?"

 

"Dad basically admitted he had a boyfriend."

 

Kurt's eyes couldn't have gotten wider. "What?!" Dave watched Kurt's eyes, now solely focused on him, seem to get bluer. He loved this reaction from Kurt, directed towards him, but it wasn't the reason he wanted.

 

"Well," Dave began, "he basically said this kid was his 'close friend', and when I pushed it further, he all but told me he was his. . .boy. .friend."

 

Kurt was enthralled, eagerly encouraging Dave to continue.

 

"That's it." Dave finished.

 

"That's it?!" Kurt asked incredulously.

 

"Yeah, that's it."

 

Kurt looked disappointed. Dave watched.

 

"Isn't," Dave quietly said, "that enough?"

 

Kurt snapped his head so fast to him that Dave thought he should have whiplash.

 

"No!" Kurt loudly began, "There isn't enough detail! How long were they together? Were they in love? What happened to them? When did-"

 

"Kurt," Dave authoritatively interrupted, "not much else was said."

 

Kurt looked disappointed. "But. . ."

 

"I know.. . "

 

Kurt looked away, completely lost in thought. Dave watched, concerned.

 

"Did," Kurt began, "he say anything. . I don't know. Useful?"

 

Dave thought for a second before replying. "Well, he said this kid was a jock and loved my dad's photography."

 

Kurt listened, absorbing the information. But then, Dave looked away, his face sullen, posture slumped. Kurt gave Dave his full his attention, knowing there was something else. And Kurt was right.

 

"Kurt."

 

"Yes?"

 

This kid. . he's dead."

 

Kurt paused, thinking Dave's words over. Dave watched him, fascinated by the little squints of Kurt's eyes, the relaxed jaws as thoughts whirled around in his head. Then, quite suddenly, Kurt looked back up at Dave, a tiny smile on his face.

 

"Somehow," Kurt whispered, leaning just a bit towards Dave, "I don't think that's true."

 

.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone! :) 
> 
> I apologize for not posting on here in soooo long. I got sidetracked by life. 
> 
> Anyway I'm back :) and again I apologize this chapter is so short. It will get longer as we go forward. Thank you all for the support on here and Fanfiction. It means A LOT to me. 
> 
> I should be able to upload a lot more now but we will see :). 
> 
> We are back in 1984 with Paul and Jack. 
> 
> With that Enjoy! :)

Chapter 11

 

**Lima,Ohio- 1984:**

 

On clear sunny days, you'd think Paul Karofsky would be taking advantage of the glorious sunshine, shooting photos of still-lifes, natural scenes, or even people. But this day was not the case.

 

Nope. In fact, he couldn't believe that he was about to be tutored in the fine art of sophisticated video gaming. He was standing, looking out the window, clearly ignoring the dumb sounds coming from his tube television. Jack, seated on the floor just a few feet away from Paul, was playing 'Pitfall' on his Atari 2600. The newest video game console on the market didn't really interest Paul, but he was eagerly fascinated at how Jack Hampton was so….happy.

 

So, resigning to the beautiful nature scene outside, Paul proceeded to sit down beside Jack. A week had passed since the incredible revelation that Jack was gay. Paul still pondered that fact from time to time, but being around Jack just felt so….right. Like, sexuality didn't matter. In fact, in many ways, it didn't. The boys just fit.

 

"Here."

 

Jack announced, handing Paul a second joystick. "Take this."

 

Paul looked down at the odd video game controller, not completely understanding why this was so important to him. Sighing, Paul took the controller, squinting at the tv screen.

 

Paul patiently listened to the advice Jack eagerly gave him. He pressed the round orange button when told. He climbed ladders when he should. He avoided alligators the best he could. Jack would point out things here and there, and offer encouragement. Paul tried his best to get into it – but he just wasn't feeling it. So, Jack tried harder, getting more and more enthusiastic about the game. Whenever Paul 'died' in the game, Jack would smile encouragingly, and one time he even tapped Paul on his shoulder, in a bro-like, accomplishing way.

 

The boys smiled and continued to play. As the screens seemed to repeat themselves, Paul got bored.

 

"So,"

 

Paul gently began, "football starts soon."

 

"Yeah."

 

Jack distractedly responded, still focused on the game.

 

"You, uh..."

 

Paul hesitated, then finished, "still going to play."

 

Jack hit the pause button and looked directly into Paul's eyes.

 

"Yeah."

 

They stared at each other, obvious concern and maybe a little anger in Jack's eyes.

 

"OK."

 

Paul simply said.

 

Jack sighed.

 

"Look Paul," he determinedly began, "I love it. I love the feel of catching a football, catching the winning touchdown pass, the thrill of the crowd cheering for me."

 

Jack shifted so he was facing a slightly concerned Paul.

 

"I just...love it."

 

Jack finished. He looked down momentarily before looking back up into Paul's eyes. Jack loved that Paul was so concerned, but he hated that Paul was so concrete in his distaste for jocks.

 

"I...understand."

 

Paul responded.

 

Again, Jack sighed.

 

"Paul," he shifted yet a little closer, "I won't become one of those awful jocks. I won't."

 

Paul was trying his best to be convinced. He didn't want Jack to become one of those hated bullies.

 

"I mean it." Jack finalized.

 

And he hoped that would be the end of the discussion. But it was clear Paul wasn't completely convinced.

 

"I'm...trying, Jack."

 

Paul hesitantly said, lowering his head.

 

"I know you love football and I so don't get it."

 

Jack couldn't help but smile a little at this confession.

 

"But, I'm just...concerned. I mean," And here, Paul hesitated again, "yeah, I don't want you to be a bully but..."

 

Jack scooted even closer, because Paul was speaking so softly.

 

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

 

Jack was overcome. He'd never heard anything so compassionate, so scared. He just wanted to reach out and hold him. In fact, one hand did rest on Paul's shoulder. Paul looked up finally, looking into Jack's eyes. Jack now, passion flooding him, simply leaned over and kissed him. His hand tightened on Paul's shoulder as the light, innocent kiss continued.

 

Finally, Jack separated. He smiled a little in Paul's eyes, but quickly frowned.

 

Paul was appalled! He stared wide-eyed into Jack's eyes like he didn't know him. Or himself.

 

After a few seconds of tension, Paul got up, racing to leave the room.

 

"Paul!"

 

Jack called out. But Paul was already down the hall, bounding down the staircase on his way to the basement, to his safety net, away from Jack, away from the truth.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> Here's another chapter! I hope you like! :) 
> 
> I try to post as often as I can. So please forgive me if this is late. 
> 
> Again enjoy! 
> 
> Continues where last chapter left off.

**Chapter 12**

 

**Lima,Ohio-1984:**

 Jack knew where Paul was headed. Lost in thought, he stared at the frozen TV screen. He was mid-jump in his 'Pitfall' game. He knew that if he unpaused the game, his character would probably die. All he would have to do is put a little effort into it, and his character would survive. He stared at the blocky pixels of his character, torn over what just happened. He had to fix this. He just had to.

 

Slowly, he got up, leaving his game paused – stuck between life and death.

 

He left the room, and sluggishly walked down the hall, but came to a stop on the staircase. He was grateful he and Paul were alone – this kind of uncomfortable conversation had to happen when they were alone. He briefly considered what he should say to Paul. He tried to make sense of what he felt for Paul, but couldn't organize everything. Sighing, he descended the staircase.

 

Then, he turned left and went through the kitchen, staring at the basement door. He suddenly became worried that the door might be locked. He quickly reached for the door and it opened. Relieved, yet nervous, he slowly walked down the stairs.

 

Paul's basement was completely furnished and could've been a bedroom had Paul wanted that. A couch was against the far wall and a TV set affixed on a small table. A small dining room table and matching chairs was in the right side of the room. And that's where Jack found him sitting, hands over his face.

 

Is he crying? Jack thought.

 

"Stay away. . ." Paul said weakly, without much conviction.

 

"Paul-"

 

"Please. . .stay….a…way…"

 

Jack froze.

 

He watched Paul, sitting at the dining room table. Paul's hands covered his face and he just looked...broken.

 

Jack's heart poured out for the boy but didn't know what to do. So, he hesitantly took a step closer to him. And then another. And then another. Paul said nothing, watching Jack through the prison bars of his fingers.

 

Finally, Jack was just a few feet away from the struggling boy in front of him. He looked around at his surroundings, hoping for some clue, any clue that could guide him right now. So, Jack tried his best.

 

"Are you. . .alright?"

 

Jack gently asked.

 

Paul pulled his fingers away from his face and Jack nearly fell apart. Paul's eyes were puffy and red from anguished tears. His eyes were watery as if any minute, more tears would fall. But Paul just stared into Jack's very concerned eyes.

 

"Who..."

 

Paul whispered.

 

"Who are you?"

 

Jack stood up as straight as he could. This was not a question he expected.

 

"I'm still Jack." he responded.

 

"I'm still the Jack Hampton that goes to school with you, that likes photography, that loves football, that loves..."

 

Jack stopped. Paul stared. The room was silent. Neither boy said anything, searching and searching each other's faces for clues, information, anything. But neither boy said anything for a Finally, after what seemed like ages, Paul slowly rose from his chair and walked across the room. The sudden distance felt cold to Jack and, as if on instinct, he followed.

 

"No!"

 

Paul said firmly, turning around and coming to a stop near the TV set, just a few feet from the wall.

 

"No..."

 

Paul repeated, yet much weaker.

 

But Jack didn't.

 

He took another step towards Paul. And then, as passion was building in his heart, he took a long step towards the love of his life.

 

But Paul finally reacted. He kicked his left foot in the direction of his pursuer. Stunned, Jack came to a stop, maybe four or five feet away. Panting slightly, he watched Paul struggle to find the right words, completely surprised by the violent response.

 

"We can't!"

 

Paul announced.

 

"It's wrong! It's not right! It's. . ."

 

His arms uselessly flung in the air, obviously frustrated with words. Jack couldn't stand this pain any longer. He bravely took a step towards Paul, while Paul looked the other way.

 

"Yes, we can."

 

Jack gently said, taking yet another step towards him. Paul took a step back and was surprised to find himself up against the wall. He looked to his left and then to his right, as if to find a means of escape. But, Paul hesitated.

 

Jack took one more step…..and then, he was right in front of him. If he wanted, he could've softly stroked Paul's stricken face. He could've wiped the tear stains from Paul's cheeks forever.

 

"Yes, we can."

 

Jack oh so softly repeated. Paul finally looked into Jack's eyes.

 

Passion. So much pain and passion!

 

"I can't," Jack whispered, "imagine a day without you in it." Confidently, Jack took one more half step.

 

Their breaths were mingled now as they stared into each other's eyes.

 

Paul found he couldn't look away.

 

"I don't know. . ."

 

Paul gently said, "what this is."

 

Jack half-smiled and finally, finally, reached up and stroked the side of Paul's face. Paul shrunk back at the contact at first, turning his head away, away from Jack, away from the truth.

 

Jack decided to take further action. He knew Paul was struggling, but the passion and total angst for the struggling boy in front of him was winning him over.

 

"Look at me.".

 

Jack gently, yet firmly said. Paul said and did nothing, still looking away. Jack's hand was still holding Paul's cheek and he could've turned Paul back to him. But he wanted Paul to come to him. He just wanted…him.

 

"Please. Look at me. . ."

 

Jack again softly said.

 

"I can't. . ."

 

Paul whispered.

 

"Yes, you can."

 

Jack confidently replied.

 

"Yes, you can. Please. . ."

 

They stood like this for what felt like hours. Paul's internal struggle was no match for Jack's confidence and both boys knew that. And then, Paul finally did what he was asked. Slowly, he turned back and gazed into Jack's passionate, even slightly happy eyes.

 

"Yes," Jack whispered. "Yes. . ."

 

They stared at each other, faces mere inches apart. Jack wanted this boy so badly but couldn't rush him. Paul's internal struggle didn't stop, but found he couldn't look away.

 

"I. . I. . " Paul struggled.

 

"It's OK."

 

Jack quietly said. He gracefully moved his fingers along Paul's cheek, stroking his pain away the best he could. Paul's eyes drifted shut for a moment, falling into the gentle embrace, and then reopened. Jack had moved just a few inches closer.

 

"It's OK. . ."

 

Jack whispered, as he leaned his head towards Paul's lips.

 

A tear slipped out of Paul's eye, falling on Jack's index finger. A gentle swipe, Paul closed his eyes, and Jack closed the distance with a kiss.

 

Oh so gently, he kissed Paul. He softly strengthened his hold on Paul's face as yet another tear fell out of Paul's eyes. Jack raised his other hand and firmly cupped Paul's cheeks.

 

The boys kissing went on and on, as Paul's tears fell away. So much time, so much pain had gone by and all of that was falling away, as the kiss deepened.

 

Finally, Paul responded. His hands found their way to Jack's forearms, not quite sure what to do.

 

Jack smiled into the kiss, guiding Paul's arms around his shoulders. Jack shifted his head to deepen the kiss even further. He couldn't stop if he wanted to. And he didn't.

 

Suddenly, Paul pushed him back! He glared for just a moment into the hurt and confused eyes of his. . .friend, and walked over to the couch, standing, arms folded defensively.

 

Jack just turned and stared at him. Questions piled in their brains and neither knew at first what to say. Paul wouldn't look at him, favoring the upholstered couch instead.

 

"What. . .?"

 

Jack softly said.

 

Paul didn't respond. Jack turned and took one step towards Paul.

 

"I think you should go."

 

Paul softly said.

 

Jack sighed, dropping his arms to his sides.

 

"Why?" Jack whined. "We both want this!"

 

Paul didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally, he whispered, "I don't know. . ."

 

Jack bravely took two steps towards him, not taking no for an answer.

 

"Yes you do."

 

Jack said, coming to a halt maybe four or five feet away.

 

"No I don't!" Paul roared. The sudden volume in Paul's voice shocked Jack.

 

"Yes you do!"

 

Jack retorted.

 

Then, it was as if sound had been swept away. The boys could feel their hearts pounding in their chests and the confusing encounter continued.

 

Jack took another step towards him.

 

"I think. . ." Paul hesitantly said, "you should. . .go."

 

Jack took a full minute to watch the broken, confused boy in front of him.

 

"I don't want to leave you like this, Paul. I don't-"

 

"Well, then you shouldn't have kissed me!"

 

Jack wasn't deterred. "I wanted to. I wanted to." Then, his voice softened. "You wanted me to."

 

Paul's head dropped even further, arms tightening even more defensively around him. Jack sighed.

 

"Football practice starts soon."

 

Jack firmly said.

 

"My first game is next week."

 

Paul said nothing. Jack took one final step towards Paul, just out of arm's reach. . .

 

"And, I hope," Jack whispered, "that you'll be there."

 

And with that, Jack turned and briskly left the room, taking the basement stairs two at a time. The front door slammed, sounding like a prison cell slamming shut. Paul flinched at the sound, and collapsed on the couch, tears flooding out of him. He stayed there crying the rest of the day.

 

.

 

Cold. Very cold. Well, it was chilly. And Paul hated it. And he couldn't believe he was where he was.

 

School had ended and football practice had begun. Paul wiggled through the gates of McKinley's stadium (interestingly named Nickole Stadium) and walked up about seven rows, sitting down on the chilling aluminum bleachers. Out on the field, the McKinley High School Titan football team was running drills. Bored out of his mind, Paul Karofsky sighed as he tried to locate #27 – the jersey that belonged to his. . .friend.

 

Since the basement incident the previous week, the boys hadn't spoken to each other. They saw each other in the halls twice a day, every day, but Paul refused to acknowledge Jack. But Paul could feel the penetrating stares from the other boy. It dazzled and confused him, but found he loved the adoration.

 

Shaking his head from his reverie, he brought his focus out to the field. The team was now running plays, Paul presumed. He watched as coaches yelled at players, demonstrated blocking techniques, schooled the quarterback, hollered congratulatory or hurtful words. He shook his head at the confusing plays.

 

Paul knew next to nothing about football. And just when he was about to give up and walk away, he found #27.

 

Pulling his hoodie around his head tighter, #27 was all the way on the other side of the field, running a silly practice drill Jack would later call 'tip drills'. Paul didn't care.

 

#27 was trotting on to the field as the players all changed.

 

Suddenly, #27 was lost in a huddle of white and red jerseys. Paul momentarily lost sight of Jack, until he finally located him, across the field. The play was about to begin and all the players were motionless.

 

Paul held his breath.

 

Then, the ball was snapped to the quarterback and Paul was astonished. He watched Jack Hampton fly down the field at incredible speed! He never knew a boy could run that fast. The ball was handed off to a running back, and Jack simply blocked a cornerback. The whistle blew, coaches yelled, and Paul settled back into his seat.

 

The players huddled again, but this time, Jack was lined up much closer to where Paul was seated.

 

Pulling his hoodie even tighter around his head, he watched Jack line up near Paul's side of the field. Jack would later call this the 'split end'. Then, the quarterback received the ball and Paul watched this amazing boy fly down the field at incredible speed!

 

Paul watched Jack's legs pump up and down and up and down at ferocious speed. Astonished, Paul's jaw dropped, as he watched Jack's legs propel himself down the field. Then, out of the corner of Paul's eye, he realized the ball was headed towards Jack!

 

Paul nearly stood up. Mesmerized by Jack's athleticism, Paul watched this amazing boy catch the ball, running in for a touchdown.

 

Jack didn't hesitate. He ran back towards the players, with as much gusto as before. Paul's breathing stopped, keenly aware of a stirring in his belly that dropped even lower.

 

Paul swallowed and licked his lips.

 

Then, as Jack was running, his head flipped up into the bleachers. And for a split second, Paul flopped back down on his seat, staring at the stunning Jack Hampton. Paul couldn't see Jack's eyes very well, but he saw the glistening teeth as Jack smiled and smiled and smiled.

 

Something in Paul. . .flinched, for lack of a better word. He watched Jack Hampton go into a huddle for a second, and then was surprised when he watched Jack practically skip to where he was positioned just a minute ago!

 

As the signals were being called, Paul watched Jack's head ever so slowly turn towards him. The football helmet was blocking a lot of Jack's face, but Paul could see the ornery smile on his face.

 

Uh oh, Paul thought.

 

The quarterback received the ball and Paul watched Jack practically explode down the field, high-stepping all the way. He felt that strange and unfamiliar tugging in his gut that dropped even lower, as did his jaw.

 

Jack's running was hypnotizing.

 

Paul just stared, admiration and lust taking over. But Jack had outran his route and the pass fell behind him. Suddenly, coaches were roaring at Jack, blaming him for outrunning the play. Jack dropped his head as he trotted back to the huddle, coaches still blaring at him. But as he trotted, he again looked up at Paul Karofsky, a wry smile on his face.

 

Paul thought he saw him wink.

 

Paul had had enough.

 

Suddenly, he got up, pulled his hoodie incredibly tighter, and fled the stadium. Jack, focusing on the playcall in the huddle, looked towards the bleachers and found no one there.

 

Jack missed every route the rest of the practice.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Hey everybody! Thank you sooooo much for staying with this story! :) 
> 
> OK – so this chapter is broken up into three Parts. This is Part One. There is so much I wanted to squeeze into this chapter that I just couldn't do it. So, this is Part One - Kurt and Dave (and someone else) are talking about Dave's dad's revelations about the whereabouts of Jack.
> 
> Thanks for reading and leaving kind reviews. ENJOY!
> 
> HAVE A NICE DAY!
> 
> ILOVESMESOMEGLEEx3

Chapter 13

 

Dave's jaw dropped.

 

He stared at Kurt, totally transfixed by his stunning azure eyes, eager little smile, cute little dimpled cheeks, and the suspicious nature of his statement.

 

"What?"

 

Dave asked, surprised.

 

"Well," Kurt replied, shifting a little straighter, but facing Dave.

 

"Hear me out."

 

Dave leaned in a little closer, catching wafts of some kind of cologne and even possibly berries.

 

He loved being near Kurt and was always caught off guard by new things learned about this fascinating and cute boy in front of him.

 

"Your dad said he's dead, right?"

 

Dave nodded.

 

"And your dad is. . .annoyed that you keep asking him about him, right?"

 

Dave again nodded.

 

"And," Kurt leaned towards Dave, his voice dropping a little, "they had a close, gay relationship that he doesn't want to talk about, right?"

 

Dave hesitantly nodded.

 

"Well, then. . ." Kurt straightened, a cocky smile on his face, "what a better way to get you to stop asking questions about him!"

 

Dave looked away, thinking about Kurt's statement. It didn't take him long to come back with a retort.

 

"Kurt," Dave gently began, "I seriously doubt-"

 

Brrrrriiiiiiinnnnggggggg!

 

"Dammit!"

 

Kurt and Dave chorused.

 

They laughed at their identical outburst, realizing they had to get to first period class. Standing at the same time, they gathered their belongings, Kurt taking a little longer while Dave patiently waited for him.

 

"Let's meet for lunch and talk about this some more."

 

Kurt confidently said.

 

Stunned, Dave's eyes widened.

 

"R-really?"

 

"Well, yeah."

 

Dave sighed.

 

"Kurt, do you really think that's a good idea? I mean. . ."

 

Dave hated that rising anxiety in his chest. His closeted self couldn't bring himself to sit publicly with Kurt Hummel in the cafeteria. But Kurt wasn't fazed at all.

 

"We can eat and talk. . ."

 

Kurt thought for a moment before finishing his statement, "right here."

 

Dave considered this. He so badly wanted to spend time with Kurt and the choir room did offer some privacy.

 

The jocks, except for the ones in glee, avoided the musical room at all costs.

 

"OK!"

 

Dave replied, a cute little smile on his face.

 

"OK, then."

 

Kurt said, adjusting his strap on his shoulder.

 

"See you then."

 

"I'll walk out with you."

 

Kurt smiled.

 

The two boys hurriedly strolled through the room and out the door. They were too busy looking at each other. Had they faced forward, they might have seen a certain, African American jock briskly walking away.

 

.

 

First and second periods were a blur for Dave. Third period sociology was no different. The boring lecture was something about Stockholm Syndrome, he thought. Often, he had to turn the page to keep up with the teacher's tedious lecture.

 

Instead, Dave was consumed with one Kurt Hummel. He just couldn't believe that he thought his dad was. . .lying? Could that have been true?

 

Dave quickly shook his head.

 

No, he didn't think Kurt meant that in a cruel way, but his suggestion that stating Jack was dead was simply to throw Dave off the topic.

 

He just didn't see it this way.

 

Then again, Kurt hadn't finished his thought. Not entirely. But Dave could see no reason his dad would intentionally lie to him about this. There was just no way.

 

While he was remembering Kurt's statement, he also couldn't forget Kurt himself. He was dressed in a silly yet beautiful getup that only someone like Kurt Hummel could find interesting.

 

After all, wasn't it Kurt himself who once said 'there's simply nothing off the racks that's suitable for the young, fashionable gay man in Ohio.'

 

Dave chuckled.

 

Startled, he looked up to see his sociology teacher staring at him, annoyed with the interruption.

 

"Sorry." Dave mumbled.

 

The lecture continued.

 

Dave longed to be as brave as Kurt. Kurt was being who he was and Dave couldn't. Kurt was dressing like he wanted, and singing, and beautiful, and dancing, and attractive, and laughing openly, and. . .hot. Dave's crush on Kurt was taking its toll on Dave's patience and annoyance at himself with not being able to come out of the closet.

 

He'd pondered this, though. The closet is exhausting. And Dave was tired. He wanted to be himself. He wanted to be brave. He wanted….Kurt.

 

But the damage coming out could cause might be devastating. He'd face torment, slushies, probable rejection from the football team. . .

 

And Azimio.

 

There was Azimio to consider and Dave suddenly thought how he'd been avoiding him recently.

 

Their last conversation turned into a confession of sorts about his sexuality and he wanted to rectify that.

 

But he just didn't know how to talk to him about serious topics. They didn't do it very often.

 

So, Dave sighed. He was a very troubled young man.

 

.

 

"Why do you eat that?"

 

Dave couldn't help but chuckle at Kurt's question. Dave's family was from Russia and spanakopita is a delicacy in many areas of that country. He quickly took an enormous bite, smiling goofily at Kurt.

 

"Is dewichius."

 

Kurt made a disgusted sound, very much to Dave's amusement.

 

"Chew and swallow, Dave."

 

Dave almost choked on his delicious casserole, before chewing and swallowing as ordered.

 

"It's delicious, Kurt." Dave happily replied.

 

"Tons of pasta and pork and beef and. . ." he paused while he looked at his food more closely, "and a few veggies – here and there."

 

"It's way too much fat," Kurt replied, his nose still crinkled, "and not very healthy."

 

"But it tastes good."

 

Kurt's features dropped and an enormous, beautiful smile adorned his perfect face.

 

Dave halted mid-bite, stunned at how amazing Kurt looked when he smiled. Realizing what he'd done, he looked back at his food, chewing vigorously.

 

As soon as another bite of his delicious Russian food was shoved into his mouth, he looked over and found Kurt was still smiling at him. Dave smiled back, chewing boyishly. He was so happy!

 

Then, Kurt smoothed his features into a frown, returning to his salad, poking around for no reason at all.

 

"Dave?"

 

He had Kurt's complete attention now. "Yeah?"

 

Kurt spun his fork in his salad, contemplating his thoughts. Dave was so absorbed with Kurt that he didn't even realize that someone unseen was nearby. Someone he knew. Someone who was listening, eavesdropping. . .seething.

 

"Well. . ."

 

Kurt falters, still spinning his fork. "About. . .this morning. . ."

 

Dave watches Kurt's hesitation as the red-coated, outside presence leaned in a bit closer.

 

"Yeah?"

 

Kurt still hesitates, lost in thought. Dave takes the opportunity to engulf an enormous piece of his food, chewing heartily.

 

Kurt is brought out of his reverie at the sight in his peripheral vision.

 

"Revolting, David! Do you have to take such big bites?!"

 

Dave immediately busted out laughing, some food spilling out on his chin. Kurt squealed disgustedly, making Dave laugh even harder! But this time, Kurt couldn't stop himself and he began laughing at the incredibly stupid, silly sight!

 

The boys just laughed and laughed. Smooth, honest, wonderful laughter filled the choir room for many seconds, as the outside presence stormed away furiously.

 

Finally, the laughter began to die down and Dave was better able to chew and swallow his food.

 

"Don't distract me like that Dave!"

 

"OK, OK." Dave said, slightly annoyed and amused at the same time.

 

He loved making Kurt laugh and committed to memory the exact moment it happened.

 

Then, Kurt got serious, setting his salad on a neighboring chair, and turning to face Dave. Dave did the same.

 

"Dave," Kurt said, "I really think your dad is just trying to get you to stop digging into his past about this Jack guy."

 

"It's working."

 

Dave whispered. Kurt looked a little shocked.

 

"It is?"

 

Kurt asked.

 

Dave hesitated before replying, "Yeah. . ."

 

"Why?"

 

Dave's eyes widened for a second before he forced them closed, taking a deep breath. When he opened them, he saw just how azure Kurt's eyes really were. And he loved them.

 

"Kurt, I don't wanna know!" Dave exclaimed. "Hell, I don't wanna know about me."

 

Kurt looked momentarily confused before Dave clarified.

 

"I mean, I can't even be open about. . .myself." And then, Dave's face scrunched in disgust.

 

"And I seriously don't wanna know about my dad's love life."

 

Ordinarily, this would've been a funny comment. But the seriousness of this situation aborted that scenario.

 

Kurt quickly studied Dave's suddenly stricken face, concerned and even a little heartbroken at the revelation.

 

Then, Kurt's eyes widened, bolting upright. Dave, of course, noticed.

 

"What?"

 

Dave asked.

 

Kurt turned towards him.

 

"A death certificate."

 

For the first time since his days as Karofsky, Dave glared at Kurt. "No, Kurt. No."

 

But Kurt was far from deterred. "What?"

 

"Just. . .stop."

 

"What? Why?"

 

"Kurt,"

 

Dave stopped, trying his best to calm back down, too keenly aware that his old 'Karofsky' self probably wasn't well-received. Dave relaxed his features before he continued. But he did notice that Kurt wasn't afraid of him. He inwardly smiled.

 

"Kurt, my dad doesn't want anyone poking into his past. And I. . .I just don't wanna know."

 

"Dave," Kurt started oh so compassionately, "don't you think if you know more about this, that you'll be more comfortable with. . ." And then, his voice became a whisper, "coming out?"

 

"How would I know?" Dave asked, clearly frustrated.

 

"Well, I think this would do you some good."

 

"Why?"

 

"What do you mean 'why'?"

 

"Kurt!"

 

The tenor sighed. He knew Dave was a tough nut to crack, but he just had to make this football player understand.

 

"Dave, I know you take quite a few hits to the head playing football," Kurt smiled a little and Dave loved the little teasing statement, calming the situation, "but this mystery is eating away at me."

 

Dave looked down, his hands folded in his lap.

 

"I don't like," Kurt continued, "that your dad is so. . .sad about this."

 

"Neither do I." Dave responded, so softly.

 

Kurt started to reach for one of Dave's hands, but stopped mid-motion. Out of Dave's peripheral vision, he saw Kurt do this.

 

Try it again, Kurt.

 

"Kurt," Dave started, clearly still pained, "what if my dad is gay?"

 

"What if?"

 

Dave's head shot up.

 

"Well, if my own dad can't come out for whatever reason, what makes you think I could?"

 

"Because," Kurt started.

 

And this time, Kurt's hand found its way to Dave's right hand, clasping firmly. Dave stared at their hands. "that would mean you could be a role model for him."

 

Dave immediately chuckled, but kept his hand incredibly still.

 

Don't let go, Kurt.

 

"Me?! A role model?"

 

"Yes." Kurt confidently replied.

 

"If you come out to your dad, then he may find the courage to do so."

 

Dave looked away, considering Kurt's words.

 

"Which brings me back to. . ."

 

And with Kurt's unfinished statement, Dave couldn't help a little eyeroll, and a sideways, half-smiling glance at the love of his life.

 

"Kurt, I just. . ."

 

Dave completely turned his head, demonstrating as much passion as he could, "I just don't know anything anymore."

 

"Yes, you do."

 

Dave blinked twice before answering. "I do?"

 

"Dave. You're slowly coming to terms with being gay. You know what the means to you, your future, and, most importantly, your father and his past."

 

Dave sighed. But Kurt continued.

 

"This mystery is haunting him." Kurt said. "I. . .we can't leave it this way." And then, Kurt's words became a whisper as he tightened his grip on Dave's hand. "We have to help him."

 

Dave's eyes dropped to the hand firmly clasped in his own. He loved the soft yet strong feel of just this tiny little bit of affection. He felt drunk on Kurt's stability and confidence. Finally, Dave looked up and was astonished to see Kurt smiling proudly. Dave smiled.

 

"Oh. . .OK, Kurt."

 

Kurt practically squealed, pulling his hand out of Dave's and clapping several times. Dave was heartily amused.

 

"But this still stays between us, Kurt."

 

"Of course."

 

"And if you find out anything, you let me know right away."

 

"Of course."

 

"Don't go to my dad with any information."

 

"Of course."

 

"And Kurt?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Stop saying 'of course'!"

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! :) I'm trying to post quick as possible. :) 
> 
> Have a Great Day! ILOVESMESOMEGLEEX3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN -
> 
> Hey everybody! Thanks for sticking with this story! You all ROCK! X3!
> 
> So, this chapter is mostly Kurt. And, atheist Kurt goes to a church in this chapter, which is actually Part Two. He's an atheist going into a church - it's not a good combo! :(
> 
> Please don't be offended - these are Kurt's words and actions, NOT mine. :)))))
> 
> So, on to the story! 
> 
> I don't own Glee.
> 
> HAVE A NICE DAY!-ILOVESMESOMEGLEE! :)

Chapter 14

(Part two)

WHAM!

Kurt rarely took his frustrations out on his beautiful, lacquered desk in his bedroom. The laptop shook a little and no one seemed to hear his outburst.

Fists planted firmly on both sides of his head, he'd realized that searching for death certificates was…frustrating.

He'd searched Ohio. He called Indiana. He tried Michigan. He half-assed it with Kentucky. He was getting ready to contact Pennsylvania, but hesitated.

Kurt sighed.

Is this really worth it?

Kurt thought. He'd logged in just over two weeks in his search. State Vital Statistics offices kept telling him the same thing –

We have processed your request for a death certificate for Jack Hampton, date of death 1984 to 2015. We did not locate a death record for anybody by that name. If you wish to resubmit your request, you may do so…

And the letters went on and on with the same re-submit request information. He began to bang his fists against his head. He could withstand the pain, which was preferable at the moment, but his obvious frustration couldn't be helped.

Well, that got me nowhere.

Kurt thought.

Sighing yet again, he looked around his room. His beautiful, modern basement bedroom was immaculate and sterile. He briefly considered lying down on the sofa for a brief rest, but his search was consuming him.

Dave was worried about him, too. Kurt seemed…obsessed with this search. Dave reminded him that he didn't have to do this, which only seemed to incense Kurt. So, Dave backed off and let Kurt 'do his thing.'

"Whatcha doin'?"

Kurt whirled around to see his father, Burt Hummel, standing at the bottom of the basement stairs.

Burt was dressed in his work blues, years upon years of grease stains momentarily grossing Kurt out. But he knew that would happen.

"Nothin', Dad."

"Nothin'?"

"Y-yeah." Kurt hesitantly responded.

"Didn't sound like nothin'."

Burt slowly walked over to Kurt, placing a firm hand on Kurt's right shoulder. Briefly consoled by the touch, Kurt momentarily closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, revealing what was on his laptop screen. Burt looked up at the screen.

"Pennsylvania Vital Statistics?" Burt asked.

"Yeah," Kurt again hesitantly responded, "I'm doing some…research. For a school project."

"What kind of research?" Burt asked, taking his hand off his young son.

"Well," Kurt began, "we have to pretend we're requesting a death certificate from various states, without a date of death. I've already tried a few, including Ohio, and I was just-"

"You should try the Mormons." Burt firmly said.

"The Mormons?"

"Yeah. They love genealogy."

Kurt brightened, looking up at his dad.

"Really?!"

Burt loved his son's sudden adoration.

"Yeah. It's a part of their faith or somethin'."

Kurt turned around at the screen, ideas upon ideas whirling around in his head.

"OK!"

Kurt enthusiastically replied.

Burt smiled, turned, and left his son to his 'homework.'

.

Kurt couldn't believe where he was going.

Turning onto Brower Rd. in Lima, Kurt drove past an enormous Baptist church, with a Lutheran church not far behind.

He kept his eyes firmly on the road, intentionally resisting the urge to glare at the religious building facades.

His stomach was growling at him. He left his house hungry, too upset with his destination to have a full meal before he left. After all, he didn't want to throw up on any Bible-thumpers, as he saw them.

His atheist left hand pulled the lever to activate a left-hand turn into the parking lot of Lima's only Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.

As he pulled into the parking lot and parked his car, he quickly went through what happened the day before. His online search with LDS websites and two telephone calls repeatedly told him that 'for further assistance, please visit your local LDS sanctuary'.

Kurt actually growled putting the car in park.

He emerged from the car and stared at the sanctuary's façade. The tower dedicated to the Star of Moroni towered over him as he pulled his thin coat further around him. He wasn't necessary chilly or anything, but the added protection against God was a sudden comfort.

Sighing, he quickly walked towards the entrance, head intentionally down.

Let's get this over with.

Kurt thought.

He opened the door and entered.

At first, he was unimpressed. A circular hall was rounding to his right and left, with closed doors in front of him. It didn't take him long to find a very helpful attendant, who escorted him to the genealogy room.

Kurt stopped, awed at what he saw.

The room was enormous! Tall row after row of bound books towered over him, with computer stations dotted along the walls. The attendant, a friendly, elderly woman named Sue escorted him to a nearby station.

"Let me know if you need any help."

Sue smilingly said.

"Thank you."

Kurt murmured, without even looking at her.

Still smiling, Sue turned and walked away. Kurt noticed that she didn't go very far.

So, Kurt sat down and opened up the computer's browser. It automatically went to a search engine for genealogy purposes. Kurt almost smiled.

He searched. And searched. And searched. Minutes passed. Then, after twenty minutes, Sue returned.

"Are you finding everything OK sir?"

Sue asked.

"No. Not really." Kurt replied, with a sigh.

"Well, maybe I can help you?"

Sue asked. And, without Kurt's permission, Sue pulled up a chair and began retyping what Kurt had already done.

Kurt put his hand on his head and rested it on the table. He eyed with woman with clear suspicion, but noticed she was much more adept at the software than Kurt was.

More minutes passed. Sue furrowed her brow a little as time passed. Finally, she turned to Kurt.

"It doesn't look like there is a record of a death for this person."

Kurt bolted upright.

"Are you sure?"

Sue eyed him carefully for a long moment before replying. "Perhaps," she carefully began, "you could find what you're looking for if you attend one of our services."

Kurt was afraid of this and wasn't deterred.

"I just," Kurt patiently replied, "need to find this guy. It's…important."

Sue smiled. "Well, sir. There is no record of a death for…" she eyed his paperwork again.

"Jack Hampton."

Kurt couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. He turned and stared at the computer screen.

What does this mean?!

Kurt thought. Thoughts were dominant in his brain and Sue kept trying to get him to go to a service.

Kurt knew what this search result ultimately was, which further complicated his world. How would he tell Dave?

"May I help you?"

Kurt whirled around and saw a tall man, dressed in a white shirt and tie. Kurt sighed.

Looks like backup has been called in.

Kurt thought.

Kurt didn't hesitate. He was convinced he was being ganged up on and knew how to handle it.

"No, bishop," Kurt astutely began, "I don't. Thank you."

Kurt hurriedly gathered his material in his hands, stood up, and got three steps away before he heard the bishop again.

"We'd love to have you-"

"No you wouldn't!"

Kurt left the room, practically running out of the church.

.

Kurt ignored his grumbling belly. The incredible news, thanks to the Mormon church, a thought that didn't miss him, was devastating. But important. Very important. He knew he had more to do and his thoughts raced around his brain. He drove haphazardly through the streets of downtown Lima, back to his home.

He practically ran back into his house and down to his luxurious bedroom, plopping down in his computer table seat.

Panting a little, he knew he had more to do, as he stared at the Google logo of his laptop's screen.

What do I do now? Should I call Dave? Should I ask dad? What now?!

Kurt placed his left hand on his forehead, overwhelmed by too much information for one teenager to handle.

He briefly considered other options.

Maybe he left the country…

Kurt shook his head at that thought. He had to keep this simple. He had to research a little more. He had to think. He had to think of Jack Hampton. Jack Hampton. Jack Hampton.

Jack Hampton

Kurt bolted upright.

How had he not thought of that sooner?!

Kurt quickly, and with a misspell or two, typed 'Jack Hampton' in the Google search engine and clicked 'Search.' He had a smile on his face.

His smile soon faded, as the search results produced 1,433 entries for a 'Jack Hampton'. Groaning a little, he scrolled through a few, casually looking at the information for Jack Hampton after Jack Hampton after Jack Hampton….

And then, something caught his eye.

After looking at the empty and dissatisfying entries for what he was looking for, he found his eyes drifting on an ad. At first, he had passed it over, but something about the business's advertisement caught his eye. It was a single word – Ohio.

Ohio.

Kurt clicked on the link, and a second or two later, an advertisement for 'Jack Hampton's Bike Shop' appeared on his screen. After his slow DSL connection finally loaded the ad (while Kurt impatiently tapped his fingers on his table), he noticed something. The business slogan –

Jack Hampton's Bike Shop

Ohio Couldn't Hold Me Back! Indiana Is BETTER!

(219) 555-1412

Kurt's eyes bulged.

Gotcha.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you have questions let me know. :) Chapter 2 will be up soon. X3 Have A nice Day! :)


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